


Don't Let Me Down

by Jmetropolis



Series: You're the One [9]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Akashi Seijuurou & Midorima Shintarou Friendship, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Future, Awkward Midorima Shintarou, Closeted Kise, Cohabitation, College, Domestic, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Dysfunctional Family, Established Relationship, Family, Family Drama, Family Fluff, Family Issues, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Future Fic, House Cleaning, Jealous Takao, Living Together, M/M, Med Student Midorima Shintarou, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss, New Year's Resolutions, Roommates, Sexual Content, Sharing a Room, Siblings, Teasing, Tokyo (City), Tsundere Midorima Shintarou, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-10 08:29:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 32,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6947767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jmetropolis/pseuds/Jmetropolis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cohabiting with your best friend is not always smooth sailing even if Oha Asa says Cancer and Scorpio are a match made in the star-speckled heavens. Takao and Shin-chan move in together after high school (a MidoTaka College AU).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Watering Hole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takao drowns his sorrows at the bottom of a glass tumbler while Kise holds court in a crowded bar.

Takao hated the future. He had decided, taking a swig of shochu and grimacing almost immediately as the hot liquid ran down his throat.

He didn’t want to think about it any more than he needed to. And at the moment he didn’t think there was any need for contemplating it at all.

They had just moved in together. They had just started uni. The future, or rather more specificall _y Midorima's future_ , was still at least six or seven years away. Even longer depending on whatever specialty Shintarō decided on.

And yet here Takao was at a bar late in the evening, brows furrowed, worrying about just that. 

Takao was more than a little miffed with himself. He was 18. He'd started his first semester of college and he'd just moved in with his boyfriend and love of his life. He should have been giddy. Celebrating his good fortune. And for the most part, he was.

The month or so he and Shin-chan had been living together had been bliss. But it was that last part -- his relationship with Shintarō and to be exact, the uncertainty of where they would end up when the convenient cover of pursuing higher education had run its course, that kept gnawing at the back of Takao's mind and kept the contents of his stomach churning uncomfortably. 

The thing was, living with Shin-chan, Takao realized, gave him front row seats to how much power and influence Midorima's father exerted over his son. Sure, the guy wasn't around much, but everything Midorima did, the university he enrolled in, the courses he picked, even the instructors he spoke with -- all of these things seemed calculated to garner his father's elusive approval. 

It wasn't like the thought had materialized itself for the first time today. It was an old worry. One Takao had been carrying with him since he was a high school first year and realized he had a thing for the team's ace and that maybe his feelings were reflected back at him in the intense, pensive gaze of bespectacled verdant eyes. But moving in with Shin-chan had brought everything to the forefront.

Earlier this afternoon, they had been sitting on the couch -- or rather Midorima had, Takao had been on his knees -- when Shin-chan's cell phone rang, much to Takao's annoyance. _We're in the middle of something_ , he'd tried to communicate telepathically with an irritated frown knowing all too well that his actions were futile. Shin-chan routinely ignored his phone when it was his mother, but on the rare occasion when it was his father calling -- that dreaded ringtone that made Takao's stomach swoop -- Shin-chan always, _always_ , answered the phone, more often than not on the first ring, no matter what they happened to be doing at the moment. Takao tried to continue but Midorima shoved him off his lap, pulling his trousers up with one hand while he balanced the phone with the other.  

 _Is everything alright?_ Takao's ears perked up because Shin-chan sounded concerned. Midorima's father never called his son just to shoot the breeze. As burning as his curiosity was, Takao knew he'd have to patiently wait until the call was over. He couldn't interrupt Shin-chan when he was on a call with the all important patriarch of the Midorima family. Takao rolled his eyes at the pompousness. While he waited for Midorima to finish with his call, Takao found his shirt tucked in between the seat cushions and pulled it over his head. Nothing like a call from Midorima's father to ruin the mood. 

That had been hours ago. Takao smiled bitterly at the glass tumbler in his right hand. He couldn't help but laugh mirthlessly at his circumstances. He couldn't help but think it was rich that he lived in fear of Midorima's father finding out about their relationship. He lived in fear of his love being discovered by a man who demonstrated time and again that he was bereft of fealty, of loyalty to his own family. Midorima's father had proved so incapable of keeping it in his pants, he had to get a vasectomy a few years back. This was the pillar of morality, the upstanding family man, the patriarch that kept Takao up at night worrying about what would happen to his relationship with Shintarō if his father found out.

In the end, Shintarō was summoned home. His great aunt had dropped by unannounced and had fully expected the family to gather around and pay homage to her. The behest was not extended to roommates of great nephews, not that Takao wanted to go in the first place. Family gatherings at Shin-chan's parent's house were a tedious, stuffy affair to begin with. But that didn't mean Takao didn't feel unsettled in an empty apartment after Midorima had gone home at his father's request.   

Living with Midorima had given Takao a taste of how sweet life could really be. And waking up next to Midorima, making breakfast together (even if Takao did all of the cooking), kissing him good-bye in the genkan in the mornings before parting ways to go to class and welcoming him at the door when he came home at night -- or more times than not, falling asleep on the couch in the living room waiting up for Shin-chan too finish his labs -- was beyond sweet, it was exquisite. It was all Kazunari wanted out of life and everything else was just a bonus. But being this close to what he wanted, made him realize how quickly it could all disappear. Takao loved the certainty of knowing that Shin-chan would come home to him at night.  _But for how long?_  

Takao had called Kise almost as soon as Shintarō had left. The hawkeye couldn't stand being alone for another minute in the apartment he shared with Midorima. He and Kise had ended up here, at a bar not too far from where Takao lived. The place catered to university students and not surprisingly, was lax on the rules as Takao's third round of shochu could attest to.

"You know Shin-chan is brilliant, but also an idiot," he said to Kise, ready to complain about how Shin-chan hadn't texted him at all tonight.

Ryōta wasn't paying him any attention. He was chatting up a pretty girl he'd brought over to their booth. At least this one seemed like she was sane and not some crazed fangirl. Takao was surprised Kise wasn't better at distinguishing between the two given how many times they'd had to hide from an ex-date turned stalker. 

The girl seemed to be really into Ryōta. _Poor thing_ , Takao thought. The hawkeye was all too familiar with Kise's drinking modus operandi. He could always tell when Kise had had too much to drink from the way Kise would switch over from flirting with the girls to flirting with the boys. It was like he needed some liquid courage flowing through his veins to feel comfortable in his own well-tended-to skin. He needed the alcohol to get himself going.

Takao briefly wondered what it was like at Kise's apartment the morning after. Did he kick the guy out of bed immediately? Did he pretend nothing had happened while nursing a wicked hangover and looking far better than a person in his condition had any right to?

Kise didn't have a roommate which Takao guessed allowed the blonde a certain amount of freedom when it came to bringing someone home for the night. He also didn't have any natural inhibitions, but that was another story. Kise didn't have to face a judgmental glare across the breakfast table from a housemate the next day. Takao did, but he was also ridiculously smitten with that scowling malcontent, so it didn't really count. And also he was sleeping with said roommate. So it wasn't like Midorima had a high horse to sit on when it came to condemnatory pronouncements on bedroom matters.

Kise's modeling jobs had earned him enough to afford a two-bedroom Shibuya apartment. It had also been enough to pay for his college education, should he ever decide to enroll in one. This was a good thing. One peek at Kise's Kaijō transcript and you'd know he wasn't getting any scholarships. Kise's grades were bad, Aomine level bad. You'd think Kise were dimmer than a bag of tar. Like seriously. His worried parents had had him tested once.

Takao knew that at some point Kise had stopped caring about school. He could even pinpoint the exact moment when Ryōta had given up on Kaijō. It was when Kasamatsu-san had retired from the team. Takao knew his friend was hurting, but he didn't know how to help him. After all, Kise was still pretending he liked to chase skirts. 

The fact that Kise felt the need to hide who he really was -- despite having several openly gay friends and a few bisexual ones -- always perplexed Takao. It wasn't like any of their friends were going to judge Ryōta if he came out. And yet here he was, stubbornly in the closet. 

"So, um. Is he coming back?" Takao nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of her voice.  He'd been so wrapped up in his thoughts he'd forgotten there was someone else at the table. 

Takao smiled at her politely.

It suddenly dawned on Kazunari that he was now stuck entertaining Kise's lady friend.  

He didn't need to check his phone to know Kise had been gone a long time. He'd excused himself to get them drinks and never came back.

Takao spotted Kise instantly in a sea of dark-haired patrons. The bubbly blond was busy making googly eyes at the bartender. The guy pouring the drinks had a weak chin and a big schnoz, and when the man turned to the side to tend to the alcoholic needs of another patron, he reminded Kazunari of a condor.

Takao and the girl must've been sitting there in silence for at least 20 or 30 minutes judging from the alcohol-induced flush that was dusting Ryōta's chiseled cheeks. Kise hadn't looked that wasted when he'd excused himself from the table.

Kazunari had a hunch he wasn't leaving this place before closing time. Kise liked to play it straight, but Kazunari knew better. He knew his friend was a cock connoisseur, if you will. The hawkeye cackled at his own joke.

"What's so funny?" The girl peered at him curiously.

"Um, nothing." Takao said as he tried to suppress a case of the giggles.  

"So, do you go here?" She asked, smiling because Takao's laugh was infectious. 

"No." Takao responded. "I go to a different school." Takao had to take the metro and switch lines three times to get to campus but he couldn't even entertain the thought of moving closer and away from Shin-chan.

"What are you studying?" she asked. 

Evidently it wasn't just the future of his relationship that was dogging him at the moment. The future of his career -- whatever that may be -- was starting to hound him in outside quarters as well. 

Kazunari consciously willed himself not to roll his eyes. He hated questions like this one.

They'd just met and she was trying to make polite conversation. He shouldn't feel this annoyed by it. It was chit-chat. It was small talk. Takao knew it was just an icebreaker, but that didn’t make the inquiries any less bothersome.

"Not sure yet," he answered, hoping the line of questioning would die then. He was ordinarily a very social guy. He loved meeting new people, but tonight he just wasn't feeling it. He had a lot weighing him down.  

He had always been a live-in-the-moment kind of guy, but now that he had moved on to the next phase of his life, now that the halcyon days of being a third year and coasting through school until graduation had passed, it seemed everyone was focusing on what was coming next. Next meaning the next four years of formal education for most of them and more than that for Shin-chan.  _But what came after that?_

Takao was at a new school, surrounded by new people, but rather than trying to get to know one another first, his classmates all seemed to want to get to know the person they would become.

Questions like _what will you major in?_ and _where do you want to work after you graduate_ kept cropping up. He’d been peppered with them during orientation and every week since classes began. He hated those questions because they were so predictable. He also hated them because he had no fucking clue what to do with himself. 

He’d thought about both questions a lot actually and wasn’t any closer to coming up with an honest answer for either of them. But most of all he hated talking about the future because he hated the uncertainty of it. He hated not knowing what -- or more importantly who -- will or will not be in it.

Midorima, on the other hand, could readily answer those inquiries. Not that Takao envisioned very many college freshman approaching Shin-chan and striking up a conversation with him to begin with. Midorima Shintarō gave off a certain air. An air of being a prickly cactus with a disposition as sweet as a jar of pickled prunes. _A complete and utter prick_ , as Aomine liked to say.

Shin-chan had probably known the answer to both questions since he’d learned to talk. To no one’s surprise, Midorima Shintarō was a pre-med student and he wanted to work at the hospital run by the university. Both were undoubtedly lofty and admirable aspirations. There were undoubtedly thousands of people who would love a career in medicine and to work at the top research hospital in the country, but there was more to Midorima's answer than that.

Takao knew _why_ Midorima’s career goals were formed so early on and set in stone at such a young age in the tsundere’s life. But too much time had passed to even question whether becoming a doctor was something Midorima really wanted to do for himself (Shin-chan didn’t particularly scream bedside manner) or whether this desire was born out of a childhood wish to spend more time with a distant and inaccessible parent. It was too late to even question it. By the time Takao’s path crossed with Midorima’s he doubted the tsundere even knew the difference and there was no sense in raising the issue with Shin-chan and cause needless doubts.

Barring some horrible tragedy, Midorima Shintarō would become a doctor. And he would be great at it. Takao knew this in his heart of hearts because Midorima was smart and he was dedicated and he was a hard worker. Once Midorima set his sights on something he followed through. It was one of the many reasons for admiring the guy.

"So, Takao-kun," the girl at the table, pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

Takao laughed. She was cute. Smart too if she went to school here. He gave Kise that much, he'd picked a good one but _he_ wasn't interested in her and neither was Kazunari. 

"That, I do not. I have a roommate though." He slipped that in because he couldn't come right out and say he had a boyfriend and because he wanted to make clear to her she wasn't coming home with him tonight.

College would've been a very different experience for Kazunari had he been unattached. Still, he couldn't long for what might've been when he had something so much better at home. Four years of mindless hookups with possibly a steady girlfriend or two in between seemed meaningless in comparison to what he had with Shintarō.

Still, Takao felt a pang of guilt referring to Midorima as just his roommate when Shin-chan was so much more to him. Takao wasn't trying to hide anything from her. Not for the reasons most guys hide the existence of a significant other from a pretty girl, anyway.

It was just that they were at a college bar. One that was near their apartment, meaning it was close to Shin-chan's smarty pants uni.

If she didn't know Shin-chan, someone she knew likely did. It was hard to miss a 195 centimeter giant with green hair and stunning green eyes. There was also Shin-chan's "sunny" disposition, one remembered even a brief encounter with the tsundere. 

At the very least, she'd recognize the name. Shin-chan's dad was a prominent doctor. He was affiliated with the teaching hospital run by the university. He'd gone to school here. He had his name on one of the buildings for crying out loud. The Midorima family was a big financial supporter of the university. For all these reasons, Takao was purposely avoiding the use of Shin-chan's name.

The girl received a text and she momentarily tended to her phone.  

Taking advantage of the lull in the conversation, Takao fished his phone from the back pocket of his jeans. He smiled to himself as the wallpaper popped up in the background. It was a picture of Midorima glaring at him as he realized Takao had been surreptitiously snapping pictures of him on his cell while they were supposed to be watching a documentary on clay pots. Shin-chan had chosen the movie. 

_What's your ETA?_

_I am uncertain when I will be permitted to leave._ Takao could imagine the sigh coming from Midorima's text. Shin-chan sounded bored. He could only guess, it's not like Shin-chan used emojis or anything. 

 _Wanna stop by?_ Takao knew it was a long shot, but it was worth a try.  

It took a few moments before Midorima responded.  _I will probably head home afterward. I prefer to study._

His boyfriend's response didn't surprise Takao in the least. Shin-chan would be anxious if he didn't do everything he could to prepare for the next day. _Right._ Kazunari texted. _See you home._  And because the fact that they shared a home now still made his heart soar he added a _few_ emoticons.  ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ ٩(♡⌄♡ )۶ ✧٩(•́⌄•́๑)

Shintarō responded in a single word, _Idiot_.

Takao cackled at the predictability of Midorima's response. Takao didn't care what others said, his boyfriend was adorable and no one could convince him otherwise.   

"How come he's not out tonight?" the girl asked, putting away her phone.

"Who?"

"Your roommate."

" _Ah._ He's studying for midterms."

"Eh? Already?" She seemed boggled by this.

"He's a firm believer in always being prepared," Takao answered. She didn't know the half of it. Takao almost always lost out in the matter of Shin-chan’s academics. 

"So he's a big nerd, huh?"

"Who?"

"Your roommate."

"Yeah. He's wicked smart." In a school packed with overachievers, only a handful of pupils were poised to rise to the top of the class. Shin-chan was going to be first in his incoming freshman class, Takao could feel it in his bones. Kazunari always felt a sense of misappropriated pride when it came to his partner's scholarly achievements.

"So did you guys get paired up randomly?" The roommate mismatch was a common complaint among the freshman.

"No, actually he goes to school here. We met in high school. We were on the basketball team together." All of that was true, but it didn't begin to encapsulate their relationship.

"A nerd and a jock." The girl laughed. "He sounds like an interesting guy."

Takao snorted. He'd never heard Midorima described as a jock, though he was certainly an impressive athlete. "He's a rare combination of brawn and brains, I guess." Not to mention beauty.

Takao knew not many people held his roommate in such high esteem. Takao knew this because he’d once been among the many who held this opinion. But it was just as well. It was their loss and his gain. He was not even mildly exaggerating when he said that Midorima Shintarō was the most amazing person he’d ever met. Which was why a future without Midorima in his life would be untenable. He was not going to even entertain the thought. 

Not tonight. Tonight he was going to drink and talk and definitely not think about it.

"You're cute." She informed him. "Those were my friends who texted. They're at a bar down the street. They want me to meet them there. Care to join me?"

Takao knew the answer even before she finished asking the question. He politely pretended to ponder a moment and was ready to turn her down when Ryōta gave him an out.

"Takaocchi," Ryōta slurred, shapely legs encased in tight leather pants and woefully unsteady as he approached the booth. "This is Ariwara."

"Asahara." The man corrected. 

"Anyway," Ryōta hiccuped. "He got someone to take over his shift. He's going to take me home." 

"Um. No he's not."  

* * *

 **AN1** : I've been meaning to add a college fic to this series for a while now. I'm been writing this story on and off since at least last August and I haven't made very much progress on it other than the first chapter and bits and pieces here and there. I wanted to get this first chapter posted for the sole reason that this story has been languishing in my drafts folder and it's about to expire. I'm currently working on [All You Need Is Love](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4664187/chapters/10693472) and I'd like to finish that first before I start devoting my time to this story. Needless to say that next chapter update will not be pronto. So if you're interest in reading the next installment of DLMD, you may want to add it to your subscription.

 **AN2:** Expect a slew of domestic MidoTaka reblogs on my [tumblr](http://jmetmisc.tumblr.com/) as despite the angsty first-chapter there will be plenty of domestic fluff in this fic. 

 **AN3:** If anyone is curious, Ryōta's love woes get resolved [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4880893/chapters/11190376). The prequel to this fic is [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4664187/chapters/13825744).


	2. Van der Waals, Wayfarers, and Waffles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takao stumbles home with a stray. Shin-chan is none-too-happy to see the straggler.

Midorima sighed as he turned the page. Not for the first time in his life, he wished he were normal.

Takao had wanted to meet at the bar near their apartment. Kazu was there now with that degenerate idiot Kise who was probably drunk as a skunk and trolling for a bedmate. 

Shintarō glanced at the alarm clock sitting on the night table on _his_ side of the bed and frowned disapprovingly at it. He reached over there to pick up another blank note card from the top of the stack.

The hawkeye had practically begged Shintarō to come out to the local watering hole and Shintarō had turned him down.

The thing was Midorima had actually _wanted_ to go.

Despite his protestations to the contrary, Shintarō enjoyed Takao's company. He didn't particularly enjoy _Ryōta's_ company, but he could tolerate it. In brief intervals of time. When absolutely necessary. And even though Shintarō was not one for crowds, he was willing to bear with them.

His boyfriend was an extrovert who liked chatting with strangers. Seeing Takao in his natural element having a good time was more than worth Midorima's own discomfort. But he didn't end up going. He'd turned Takao down.

Shintarō had spent the afternoon with his family. They'd received an unexpected visit from his great aunt who'd arrived at their doorstep unannounced and was apparently planning to stay with them until Obon, much to his mother's dismay. Sazuna had looked like she'd been about ready to cry. 

After he left his parents' house, Shintarō went straight to his new home, to the apartment he shared with Kazunari.

As expected, it had been empty when he'd arrived, much too quiet without Kazunari's running stream of chatter, guffaws, and endless taunts. Shintarō caught his lips quirking upwards at the thought of Takao's usual antics. 

Shintarō sighed deeply as he highlighted a passage in his textbook. He knew he was being ridiculous, staying home on a Saturday night when most _normal_ university students were out having a good time. Midterms were still months away, after all. But he knew he'd fret all night if he didn't review the material they'd covered in class this week. And so he'd turned Takao's invitation down. 

Thumbing through his textbook, Shintarō found the passage he wanted to look over and caught his glasses just before they slid off his nose. The downward angle of his head kept causing them to slip off his face. He'd been meaning to get the arms of the thick black frames tightened. But this, like everything else since he'd started classes, had been pushed off. Lately, he'd been so busy trying to keep up with his classes, he hadn't had time to go the the optical shop and buy yet another pair. Shintarō rubbed his tired eyes, before putting his spectacles back into place. 

Ordinarily, the overly prepared Cancer kept a second or third pair on hand, but one had been lost in the move and the other had cracked the day after.

 _Opps. Sorry Shin-chan. I didn't see those there_ , Takao had more or less apologized after setting a heavy cardboard box of kitchen supplies on the counter only to hear a loud crack where minutes before Shintarō had set his spare pair down for just a moment.

He didn't know what it was about Kazunari, but in the three years they'd known each other, Shintarō had had to purchase more replacement eyeglasses than ever before. Shintarō couldn't even bring himself to feel annoyed about it any longer. He just accepted it as a fact of life and planned for the eventuality of needing to buy extras in the future.

After taking a moment to collect his thoughts concerning the section he'd just read, he began jotting down notes on Van der Waals dispersion forces. Shintarō's precise, tight script elegantly filled the surface of the note card in front of him, penmanship so perfect one would think he were addressing a wedding invitation.

Shintarō was pre-med and so he was required to load up his first-year curriculum with science courses. He was also old fashioned when it came to studying and to be honest, most other things. And so he liked to write everything down on note cards instead of typing notes on his laptop like most of his classmates. 

He'd thought that asking Takao to move in with him would simplify things for both of them. He knew he wouldn't have a lot of free time once classes started and so at least this way they'd still see each other everyday no matter how brief the encounter.

Shintarō frowned at the page in front him. He knew when they became friends that they were destined to attend different universities, a fact that never bothered him until he and Takao grew closer and Shintarō realized that it was unbearably quiet without Takao's continuous stream of chatter, his spontaneous and inane laughter, and his constant teasing. Parting ways after high school never really bothered Shintarō until he realized (far sooner than he cared to admit) that he enjoyed Takao's company.

Midorima had always known he'd attend the school his father had gone to and it was obvious Takao would not. Takao had never been a stellar student to begin with. It wasn't even a question of applying himself, Kazunari was so far behind Shintarō in terms of class ranking there wasn't even the mathematical possibility (much less the practical reality) that he'd catch up to him their senior year at Shūtoku, let alone pass the entrance exam.

Takao wasn't an idiot, no matter how many times Shintarō called him one. He was very bright and perceptive and dedicated to the things he loved. It just so happened that school was not one of those things. 

Midorima had known that. He'd also known that he would be devoting himself to his studies even before he university classes began. He'd matriculated in the best school in the country and he was enrolled in one of its most challenging curricula.

For the first time in his life, he was surrounded by like-minded, serious students and if he was going to stand out among this crowd of overachievers, he needed to immerse himself in his studies. He knew his time spent outside the classroom would be a scarce and valuable commodity and so he'd thought if he and Takao moved in together they would at least see each other in the mornings and at bedtime. Takao would understand. At least Shintarō hoped his boyfriend did.

Shintarō sighed, not feeling so sure of himself now. Here he was studying at home when everyone else was out having a good time. He glanced nervously at the pillow beside him, at Takao's pillow, at Takao's empty side of the bed.   
  
Takao was going to get tired of him. Midorima could feel it. Who would want to be tied down with a stick in the mud like himself? Takao was a people person. He was social and he liked going out. Midorima did not.

Takao wasn't useless no matter how many times Shintarō called him that. He was smart and funny. A ridiculous flirt and really, really good looking to boot.

He was also at a bar with chic-magnet, closet-case Kise Ryōta. A man who made his living just by being born with that stupid face of his. Shintarō thought of Kise with he legion of rabid fan girls. They were probably famished and circling around him right now like sharks at a feeding frenzy.

Midorima wasn't worried about Takao straying. Shintarō wouldn't have been able to date Kazunari, wouldn't have opened up to him and become more than friends if he didn't have complete trust in his partner. And Shintarō certainly wasn't worried about being replaced by Kise. Midorima wasn't _that_ insecure.

He didn't think Takao would ever cheat on him. He knew Kazu was fiercely loyal. They both were. Loyalty was a trait Takao had in spades and it was something Shintarō valued in a partner above all else. He needed only to look at his parents' own rocky marriage to know he wanted no part of the drama that went along with an unfaithful partner. It wasn't infidelity he was worried about. But relationships didn't always end because one or both of the partners cheated.

Sometimes it was nobody's fault. Sometimes people just grew apart. For now things were as good as could be expected given Shintarō’s onerous coursework. But that didn't stop Shintarō from worrying that sooner or later Takao was going to get bored of him. Sooner or later Shintarō was going to lose him.

###

It was two in the morning when Shintarō’s bleary eyes turned their attention to the alarm clock again. By now, the stack of blank note cards on the night table had dwindled to the single digits. He was finally caught up with his review of the past week and thought that now was as good a time as any to get up and make some green tea.

Takao wasn't home yet and it wasn't as if Shintarō was waiting up for him or anything, but he was dead tired and could use some caffeine.

Shintarō vacated the bed.

Their apartment was small, but not by Tokyo standards. Consequently, most of Midorima's things were still at his parents’ house where they would stay until Shintarō had any use for them. Although the apartment he shared with Kazunari wasn't anywhere near as spacious as what Midorima was used to, this small corner unit on the fourth floor felt like home more than his parents' house ever did. 

What the apartment lack in size, it more than made up for in location. They couldn't possibly be closer to the medical campus if they tried. Even student housing was a brisk twenty minute walk from Shintarō’s classes.

He and Takao had unpacked the kitchen first, so everything in that room was organized and in its rightful place. Shintarō poured boiling water into one of his mother's wedding china tea cups and was about to whisk up a green froth when he heard the sound of metal scraping against the front door and the unmistakable whine he was all too familiar with.

Shintarō groaned as he set the whisk down on the counter and decided to lend his baka boyfriend a helping hand.

An irritated Shintarō opened the front door and Takao nearly fell forward. It was evident from that stupid glaze over his eyes and his ruddy complexion that the idiot was three sheets to the wind. 

Judging from the scratches on the coat of paint on the front door, Takao had made several unsuccessful attempts at getting the key into the keyhole, before Midorima had helpfully opened the door for him. Getting their security deposit back was going to be an issue.

"Shin-chan!" Takao slurred, sounding surprised to find Midorima wide awake at this hour. "I didn't mean to dist-, I didn't mean to dist-urb you."

"Then don't fumble around outside the door like a bumbling tosspot." Shintarō huffed in annoyance. "And lower your voice," he whispered-hissed. "Decent people are sleeping at this hour."

Honestly, Shintarō did not want to know what ill opinions their neighbors had already formed of them in the month or so that they had been in the buildling.

"Sorry. I was having trouble finding the keyhole," Takao explained holding up a single key attached to a ring with far too many keychains. Of course, there was nothing to _find_. The keyhole was exactly where it had been when Takao had left the apartment earlier.

Midorima resisted the temptation of closing the door on Takao's face and just letting his inebriated boyfriend figure how door knobs worked again.

"Get in,” Shintarō said flatly. “You're letting the heat inside." 

Despite the harsh reception, Shintarō was secretly relieved Takao had finally come home, not that the tsundere would ever admit to something so cloying as waiting up for his boyfriend or anything.

Now that he lived with Kazunari, there was a certain satisfying feeling of having everyone present and accounted for at the end of the day, even if that "day" turned out to be the early morning hours of the next day. And though they'd only been sharing a bed a handful of weeks, it was already painfully obvious to Shintarō that he had a hard time falling asleep without Takao burrowed tightly next to him, all hot and sweaty and a tangle of limbs. This sentiment held true, no matter how many times Midorima complained about Takao appropriating the undesirable sleeping habits of a lamprey.

It was only May and despite the early morning hour, it was shaping up to be a hot spring. Takao was poorly dressed for the weather wearing a long sleeve button down and a pair of tight jeans, Shintarō only just noticed.

He had expected Takao to walk in immediately, but instead Kazunari stooped down to shake a dozing lump of rumpled designer clothes that had been propped up beside the door. Shintarō's eyes followed Takao's movement.

"Oh for heaven's sake," the tsundere complained. Up until this moment, the massive lump had somehow escaped Shintarō’s attention. 

Takao had brought home a stray. Midorima's eyes narrowed accusingly at Kazunari, but he stepped aside so Takao could drag his quarry into the genkan with no help from an irritated Midorima.

"What is _that_ doing here?" Shintarō demanded once everyone was inside the apartment and he could close the front door, no longer having to worry about keeping his voice just above a whisper out of consideration for the neighbors.  
  
Shintarō was not amused. The cool temperature from the thermostat was chasing away the dry heat Kazunari had brought in with him. Unfortunately, it did nothing to remove the interloper.

"Shin-chan," Takao tutted, or rather, slurred. "You can't expect me to let him go home."

 _And just why the hell not?_   Shintarō wanted to ask, but just then the drowsy subject of their conversation regained consciousness. The bubble-headed blond blinked several times bewildered.

"Midorimacchi," Ryōta hicupped, sounding surprised to see the pajama-clad tsundere. Kise had to lean against Takao's leg so as not to spill onto the floor. "You decided to come!"

Of course, Shintarō had never had much tact. "You're not at the bar right now, idiot. You're in my home," he barked.

But before Ryōta could process this information, he was out like a light again. This time letting go of Takao's leg and falling onto his side. Shintarō decided to let sleeping dogs lie for a moment, while he tended to Tweedledee.

"See," Takao told Midorima as if Kise's question proved his point. "I can't leave him alone when he's like this." 

Shintarō huffed, unwilling to concede Kazunari’s point. He'd been eager for his boyfriend to come home, but he hadn't expected his boyfriend to bring home their idiot friend.

Shintarō had no patience for Ryōta on a good day. He had even less patience for the annoying man-child when he was so drunk he had no idea where he was. _Honestly_ , he didn't understand his generation most of the time.  

Shintarō briefly considered how long it must've taken them to walk from the bar given how plastered Kise looked and how sweaty Takao was before deciding he didn't care.

Takao, of course, launched into a fit of the giggles.

"What's so funny idiot?" Midorima asked as he began unbuttoning the sleeves of Kazunari's shirt. 

"I'm home," Takao announced in his most formal speech, trying to sound all cute and succeeding much to Shintarō’s annoyance. 

"Welcome home, idiot," the tsundere responded dryly.

Takao stunk to high heaven of sweat and alcohol and secondhand smoke. Midorima wasn't about to let him get past the genkan in those clothes, much less crawl into bed with him without taking a shower first.

He watched Takao try to pull his shirt off only to succeed in getting it stuck over his head. Midorima reluctantly intervened. He proceeded to help Takao with his shirt lest the hawkeye accidentally choke himself.

It was like undressing a toddler Shintarō noted and then banished the thought when Takao slumped over and hugged him. Shintarō patted Takao's head before pushing him off so he could get back to business.

He stripped Takao out of his ridiculously tight jeans and boxer briefs and finally his socks. "Go shower," he told him, gathering Takao's castoffs into a ball so he could take them over the small laundry room just off the guest bath. 

"What about Kise?" Takao called after him, walking stark naked through the living room.

Ryōta's clothes were in the same smelly state as Takao's and Shintarō supposed he'd eventually have to get around to the unpleasant task of divesting Ryōta of them and lending him a pair of pajamas to sleep in. 

Shintarō had half a mind to leave Kise where he was, asleep on the floor of the genkan. It would've served him right, getting so wasted he'd been a burden on Kazunari. 

Instead, Shintarō returned from the laundry room with a clean sheet. He draped it over the coach, before walking over to the genkan to pick up Kise, who was dead weight and even more useless than usual. Kise was absolutely of no help whatsoever in his unconscious state as Shintarō pulled the blond over to the couch. 

"Irresponsible idiot," Midorima scolded a blissfully unaware Ryōta who was peacefully asleep on Shintarō's great aunt's couch.

He abandoned Kise for the moment so he could check on Kazunari and see how his other idiot was doing.  

"Why are you still standing here, fool? Get in the shower," he shouted at a naked Kazunari who was standing idly in their bedroom evidently waiting for Midorima to come find him.

"Aye, aye ace-sama," Takao said teasingly, giving Midorima a mock salute as he retreated to the _en suite_ in the master bedroom. 

Moments later, Midorima realized Takao hadn't turned on the water yet.

When Midorima walked into the adjacent bathroom, the hawkeye insisted he was too drunk to bathe by himself and that Midorima had to supervise him.

"What if I drown, Shin-chan. Wouldn't you be crippled with guilt."

Shintarō gave in because it was late (or rather very early) and he was tired and the sooner he got through this ordeal, the sooner he'd make it to bed.

Midorima turned on the shower, adjusted the knob until he got the temperature to where he knew Takao liked it.

"How am I supposed to trust Kise with my things if he doesn't take care of them," Shintarō muttered under his breath, as he shampooed Takao's hair. 

"Shin-chan," Takao said and even in his drunken stupor he could still appreciate the possessiveness behind the statement. "That's strangely romantic of you."

Ordinarily, Midorima would've never been this honest, but he had expected Takao to be out of it and not caught the meaning of his words. Shintarō could've denied them, but it was something that was weighing heavily on his mind. "It's not like I'm in a position to take you out," he told Takao.

Midorima wasn't so selfish as to insist Kazunari stay home and watch him study while their friends went out and had a good time. "But the very least he could do is walk you to your front door before whoring off with who knows who."

Kazunari snickered. Shin-chan’s words brought back the image of the bartender Kazunari had cockblocked at the bar.

And then he tried to pull Shintarō in towards him.

"Oy," the tsundere protested. "If you're too drunk to shower alone, you're too drunk for anything else," he told his handsy boyfriend as he lathered up the loofah, turned Takao around and scrubbed his boyfriend's back. 

"Shin-chan," Takao said cheekily, "you missed a spot," he said pointing downward to a rather pointy spot.

Shintarō rolled his eyes as he toweled off Kazunari. He knew exactly what Takao wanted, but it wasn't going to happen until the hawkeye sobered up. Shintarō had no interest in bedding his intoxicated boyfriend.

Midorima had left Takao in their bedroom -- surely the hawkeye could manage getting into his pajamas on his own -- so he could put the tea away in the kitchen and get the guestroom ready for Ryōta. 

###

Midorima signed as he began the unpleasant task of changing Kise into his night clothes. A task that grew even more unpleasant when Midorima realized Kise wasn't wearing anything else beneath his obscenely tight pants. It took some effort to get a passed out Kise into a pair of borrowed pajamas that Midorima no longer wanted returned.

It would have to do. It was bad enough he'd had to change Kise's clothes for him, Midorima wasn't about to give the man a bath to get the stench of eau-de-musty-bar off his person. 

When he was done, Shintarō threw an afghan over Kise, hoping that the idiot didn't drool through the sheets and all over his great aunt's couch in the time it took Midorima to change the bedding in the spare bedroom. 

Shintarō deposited Kise's clothes in the washing machine where'd he'd dumped Kazunari's. It was too late now to start the wash, he'd do it when he got up in a few hours.

Midorima washed his hands _twice_ with antibacterial soap in the guest bath before heading to the bedroom to change the sheets for Ryouta.  

###

"Takao," an exhausted Midorima sputtered when he felt a familiar figure climb on his back. "What are you doing in here?"

"The better question, Shin-chan is what should _we_ be doing in here."

Midorima deposited his boyfriend onto the bed he'd just made for Kise, the springs on the worn mattress squeaked under Takao's weight.

The hawkeye looked up at Midorima, giving his boyfriend his most caddish grin.

Shintarō rolled his eyes. _Someone was insistent_. 

"Here," he said, handing Takao a plastic sports drink bottle he'd brought with him from the kitchen. There was a second bottle on the nightstand for Ryōta. "Drink up," he told him. He knew if Takao didn't hydrate, he was going to be in a world of hurt when he woke up later.

They were in what was supposed to be "Takao's room," at least that was what they'd told Midorima's parents. Truthfully, Takao spent very little time in this room and he certainly didn't sleep there.

The bed was a hand-me-down from Kimura and it had seen better days. But since it had been given to Takao for free, the hawkeye had gladly accepted it.  

Takao had taken a shower, Midorima had seen to that, but the man hadn't done much by way of getting dressed. Kazunari still had his towel precariously wrapped around his waist with nothing underneath as was clearly evident from the way Takao insisted on shamelessly sprawling his legs on the bed, an invitation that was as clear as day.

Shintarō looked away pink cheeked, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Mostly because they were loose, but also because he was getting hot and bothered by Takao's excited state.   

Contrary to popular belief and rank speculation, Midorima Shintarō was not a cold fish. Stupid Aomine and his ridiculous, baseless assumptions.

Shintarō enjoyed intimacy. He craved it even. He knew that while it wasn't necessarily an important part of every relationship, it was an important part of _his_ relationship with Kazunari.

He liked having Kazunari in his bed, loved it even though there was a stubborn part of him who'd rather die than admit it.

So his objection when Kazunari wrapped his bare legs around Midorima's waist, letting the damp towel fall by the wayside and pulling Shintarō onto Kimura's squeaky bed was not vociferous per se. 

Takao pulled Midorima's glasses off his face, so he could kiss the man properly. And when Kazunari tried to set the spectacles down without looking -- missing the night table by mere centimeters --  neither one of them thought anything of it when the dark-rims quietly hit the carpeted floor. 

Midorima let himself fall under Kazunari's spell, at least momentarily. There wasn't any harm if he allowed himself to indulge in a kiss. _Right?_ And then Takao wedge his hand between them, wrapping his fingers around Shintarō like a gropey octopus. 

"Mmph," Shintarō protested, pulling back and pushing Takao onto the bed making the springs creaked under the hawkeye's weight. 

Shintarō's eyes narrowed as Takao seized the opportunity to tease his boyfriend.

"Oh, Shin-chan," he fake moaned, as he bounced on the bed, setting off a series of creaks that were unmistakably _rhythmic_ in nature. "Don't stop!" he wailed, like one of the actors on Aomine's AVs.

"Shut up, you fool!" Shintarō insisted, because the last thing he wanted was for Ryōta to wake up. 

Shintarō's mortified pleas seemed to only encourage his incorrigible boyfriend and so Shintarō tried to silence Kazunari by placing a large palm over his mouth, but Takao squirmed out of his reach, moving about the bed and continuing with his lewd sound effects. "Yes, Shin-chan," he said bouncing up and down. "Harrrderr! Yes!"

"Will you shut-up?!" 

Kimura's well-worn mattress had gotten a lot of mileage before it had been passed down to Takao, but evidently it was no match for the one-sided horseplay that was going on at the moment.  

Two of the legs finally gave out, sending the mattress and the people on top of it crashing onto the floor. 

"Oh shit, what was that noise?" Kazunari asked when he heard a distinct crack. He turned over to see what they'd crushed. 

"Fuck," Shintarō responded, not needing to look at the wreckage to determine the casualty. "That was my last pair."

"Shit."

###

Midorima supposed he should at least be grateful that Takao was not too hung over to cook them breakfast, even if it was closer to lunch time. 

Kise was giving Midorima surreptitious little glances as they sat next to each other at the kitchen counter. Shintarō knew exactly what the blond wanted to ask him, but was hoping to just ignore him.

Takao poured the batter onto the hot surface causing a quiet sizzle and when it turned golden brown, he pulled it from the waffle iron. 

"Why are you wearing sunglasses?" Ryōta turned to Midorima and asked the question that had been boring in his mind all this time.

"They're prescription sunglasses," Shintarō responded, pouring syrup on his plate and hoping against hope that Ryōta, for once in his life, would just drop it.

"Yes, but why --"

"My glasses broke last night," Shintarō said tersely, pushing the sunglasses up the bridge of his nose and already feeling the heat creeping up on his cheeks. 

"How did you break your glass--"

Takao piled a stack of fluffy waffles on a plate and pushed them under Ryōta. Mercifully, that shut Ryōta up. 

The blond shuddered as he promptly pushed the plate back at Kazunari. Ryōta looked like he was going to be sick. He lay his head on the breakfast bar and moaned quietly.

Shintarō felt tempted to point out that that was what Ryōta got for being a degenerate lush, but he did not want to open the lines of communication back up, having finally gotten Ryōta to shut up.

"My neck hurts," Ryōta complained as he rubbed the back of his head, not bothering to lift it off the counter.

Kazunari snicked, "That's cause you slept on the couch." 

"Why?" the blond inquired innocently. "What happened to the bed?"

Takao smiled impishly, looking over at Shintarō who was steadfastly refusing to make eye contract. "We broke it," Takao answered.

"Wow," Ryōta exclaimed. "Look at you two energetic lovebirds. Midorimacchi you broke your glasses _and_ the bed?! I'm impressed!"  

Midorima finally reached his limit, "Go home Kise!"

* * *

**AN** : You guys, I need help staying motivated with this fic. I've been working on this chapter for over a month now. I'm kind of in a writing slump and I'm not sure what to do about it.


	3. Wait, what's your PIN?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takao makes an unexpected discovery while making a purchase for Shin-chan. Midorima just hopes he doesn't get teased too much about it.

Shintarō thought that it would be a good idea if they split up.

After all, they could save considerable time on this impromptu shopping excursion if they each went their separate ways.

The trip to the mall couldn't be helped. It was bad enough Midorima had to wear those ridiculous sunglasses the better part of Sunday, he couldn't possibly show up to class on Monday morning with them on. 

Still, there was no reason he couldn't kill two birds with one stone. The pinch hitter hairdresser Midorima occasionally visited when his mother's longtime hairdresser in Ginza was not available happened to be at the same mall as Shintarō's optical shop. 

Shintarō figured he might as well get a hair cut since he was already out and his study time was shot for the next few hours.

There was no sense in _both_ of them going to the hairdresser though, so he gave Takao his debit card and sent him on an errand.  

While Midorima got his hair shampooed and received a leisurely, deep-conditioning scalp massage, Takao hoofed it to the opposite end of the mall and up three flights of stairs thanks to a broken escalator to the one-hour optical that had Midorima's prescription on file and his signature frames in stock.

Though Midorima had gone through _many, many_ different pairs of prescription eyeglasses since Takao had known him, the set-in-his-ways tsundere always picked the same black-rimmed frames. Takao didn't know what Shin-chan would do if the manufacturer ever discontinued the product.   

While he waited for the store to process the order, Takao passed the time by trying on the zaniest pairs of eyeglasses he could find on the display along the back wall. 

As he tried on each pair, he'd gaze in the mirror and say in his deepest voice, "How do I look, nanodayo" and then laugh himself silly. 

The store clerk shot him annoyed glances which he ignored. He figured, if they really wanted to get rid of him, they'd process his order faster.

In just under the promised hour, the harried technician came out from the backroom to hand Takao a large, glossy shopping bag with the store's megane logo.  

"Here you are, Sir. Five pairs of identical, black-rimmed glasses," he said as if Takao's order was the oddest thing. 

The annoyed sales clerk rang him up. "That'll be 260,000 yen." 

"Geez. Glasses sure are expensive," Takao commented as he handed the sales clerk Shin-chan's debit card. 

###   

Shintarō had thought sending Takao to pick up his glasses had been a good idea right up until he received a phone call. 

"Hello." Shintarō answered, hoping it wasn't his mother. At the moment he was getting his hair cut and so he didn't even have the benefit of his prescription sunglasses. He couldn't see a darn thing. His eyesight was so poor, it was impossible to see himself in the mirror in front of him. 

"Shin-chan, I need your PIN," Takao said. 

"My PIN?" Shintarō asked stupidly. 

"Yeah," Takao responded, "you know, to pay for the glasses."

Midorima hesitated.

The call went silent. "Shin-chan?" Takao asked.

"Yes. I'm here."

"What's the matter? You don't trust me?"

It wasn't that. It wasn't that _at all_. Midorima trusted Takao with his _life_. So he certainly trusted Takao with his money. It was just that his pin was _problematic_. "Twenty-one-eleven." Midorima muttered quickly.

"What?"

"Twenty-one-eleven," Midorima repeated.  

Takao burst into laughter. "You've got to be shitting me." 

Shintarō quickly hung up on him. 

###

"Hey." Takao met up with Midorima at the hair salon. 

"Hey," Midorima answered, purposely avoiding eye contact and fishing a new pair of glasses from the many boxes in the large shopping bag Takao was carrying.

"You're hair looks cute," Takao commented while Midorima replaced the prescription sunglasses he was wearing with the prescription eyeglasses Takao had brought him.

Shintarō inspected his haircut in the mirror in one of the empty stylist stations towards the front of the salon. He sighed defeatedly. "It's too short and I don't like it parted to the side," he complained, "but I suppose it's not the end of the world. It will grow back.  

###

Takao took advantage of the fact that he'd finally gotten his hermit boyfriend out of the house and insisted they stop at the Scandinavian retail store to pick up a few things, before heading home.

By now, they had unpacked everything they'd brought with them to their shared apartment, but they still needed a few odds and ends. 

As expected, Shintarō was being a nervous Nellie about getting back to his studies. And so Takao settled for buying only a few things, including a melamine bowl with a cute snowman pattern on it.

He figured it would come in handy for holding mandarin oranges while sitting at the kotatsu when winter came.

Takao smiled warmly. The thought that he would be spending winter with Midorima Shintarō in their cozy little apartment filled him with so much glee. 

"What are you smiling about?" Shintarō asked. 

"Nothing, Shin-chan. I'm just happy. That's all."

Takao had wanted to eat at the restaurant on the second floor of the store. But Midorima was eager to get home. So instead, Takao compromised by buying a bag of the store's frozen Swedish meatballs and making them at home for supper.  

###

After an early dinner, Kazunari was laying across their borrowed red velvet couch with his head resting on his boyfriend's lap. Shin-chan was studying for a biology exam. He seemed to be doing that every spare moment. _Studying_.

But Kazunari wasn't complaining. Not at the moment, anyway. Kazunari was happy actually. He'd had a rare, unexpected outing with Shin-chan and all because Shin-chan had run out of spare glasses.

When they got home Shin-chan had hidden all the extra pairs Takao had picked up from the optical and refused to tell Kazunari where they were.  

Takao looked up as Shintarō turned the page.

"What is it?" Midorima asked, not bothering to take his eyes off the text. He sounded annoyed at being stared at.

Takao giggled. "You're really comfy, Shin-chan." Takao said.

"That's because you're treating me like a throw pillow."

"Shin-chan," Takao said, turning toward Midorima's belly button.

"What is it," Midorima grunted as he scribbled words onto a note card.

Takao reached up and carded his fingers through Shintarō's freshly shorn locks.

"You look so cute like this Shin-chan," he said, complimenting his boyfriend's new hair cut. "You should wear it parted to the side like this more often."

Shintarō looked like a man who was running out of a finite amount of patience. "Takao," he said. "If you don't shut up. I'm going to get up, go to our room and lock myself in there until I finish my review." 

"Okay, okay, Shin-chan," Takao pleaded. "I'll be quiet," he said, because he was awfully comfortable on Shin-chan's lap and didn't want to move from this position. 

"You know, Shin-chan" he said, "from here, I can see all the way up your nostrils." 

"Takao!"

"Sorry, Shin-chan," Takao said. "I'll be quiet now." 

Shintarō grunted skeptically. 

"For reals, Shin-chan," Takao said and made a little gesture like he was zipping up his lips and throwing away the key.

Shintarō rolled his eyes at his boyfriend. "Color me unconvinced," he said, but nonetheless remained seated on the couch.

Of course, the peace and quiet didn't last long. Shintarō was able to review two more chapters, before he was interrupted by a snicker coming from his lap.  

"Shin-chan," Takao said in a goofy voice. "I can't _believe_ you set my birthday as your bank PIN."

"Shut up, Takao."

###

Shintarō came out of the shower only to find Takao tucked under the sheets. The tsundere looked at the alarm clock on his side of the bed. It barely registered seven o'clock. Much too early for anyone over the age of six to turn in for the night, much less a notorious night owl like Kazunari. 

"Takao," Midorima said disapprovingly. "What are you doing in here?"

The hawkeye gave his boyfriend his most caddish grin. "The better question, Shin-chan, is what should _we_ be doing in here." 

Midorima didn't need to pull back the sheets to guess at Kazunari's state of undress. He felt like he was letting a stray into the bedroom.

If he gave in tonight and let Kazunari have his way, he'd want to do it every night and that wouldn't bode well for Midorima's studies.

Contrary to popular belief and rank speculation ( _cough, cough,_  Aomine), Midorima Shintarō was _not_ a cold fish. He enjoyed intimacy. He craved it even. He knew that while it was not necessarily an important part of every relationship, it was an important part of _his_ relationship with his boyfriend.

There was always an underlying current of electricity running between them and with minimal contact it could cause a spark. 

He liked having Kazunari in his bed, loved it even though there was a staunch part of him that would rather die than admit he took pleasure in it. So Midorima's objection was not directed to shaking the sheets -- as was so blatantly Takao's objective  --, but to the time said activity would necessarily take away from his studies. 

It behooved Shintarō to nip this behavior in the bud. 

"If you wish to turn in early, the spare bedroom is down the hall," Midorima helpfully pointed out, opening the door to _their_ bedroom in hopes that Takao would take the hint and leave.

Takao mistook Midorima's intentions. This was their mating ritual. Takao knew this song and dance by heart.

He would often proposition Shin-chan. Takao's prudish boyfriend would clutch his pearls and tut at him disapprovingly until Takao wore him down. Midorima could then claim high ground, pretending he'd never been so scandalized in his life and so on and so forth until they were both panting and heaving in a sweaty, sated heap of tangled naked limbs avoiding the ubiquitous wet spots while trying to catch their breaths.

It was like a tennis match, except they had less and less articles of clothing with each serve.

Takao had it on good authority that Midorima absolutely _adored_ his ass. Not that the tsundere would ever deign to compliment Kazunari's glorious gluteus maximus. But some things were just plain obvious.

It didn't take much effort. Takao wriggled his derriere under the sheets and Midorima relented.

The tsundere let go of the door knob. He supposed he could start studying at eight. 

"It's like having an incubus for a roommate," Midorima complained, even as he reached for the bottle of lubricant they kept stashed in the top drawer of the nightstand for this very purpose. 

Takao smiled like the cat that got the cream. 

###

It had all worked out for Shintarō in the end because Takao had fallen asleep afterward and Midorima was able to resume his studying undisturbed. 

Takao woke up again several hours later when he felt Midorima’s arm wrap around his torso from behind. The unexpected movement startled the hawkeye awake.

And then Shintarō reached for Takao's hand, carefully lifting Takao's fingers up off the bed and squeezing them gently before leaving a feather light kiss on Kazunari's bare shoulder.

Takao felt his own heart beating erratically in his chest, but he didn't dare move a muscle lest he frighten Shintarō away by alerting the tsundere to the fact that by now, Takao was very much awake.

Moments later, he felt Midorima shift away from him. Takao logically concluded that the tender moment, brief as it was, had ended only to realize that Midorima was merely getting up to brush his teeth.

Takao could hear the faucet running in the ensuite bathroom. He heard the toilet flush. The water run again. He heard a brief pit stop at the chest of drawers where Shintarō kept his neatly folded, staunchly pressed pajamas.

And then Shintarō lightly padded barefoot back toward their bed. Through shuttered eyelids, Takao noticed when Midorima turned off the lamp on the night table on his side of the bed, plunging the room into darkness.

After all that, Midorima returned to spooning Kazunari, pressing his chest flush against Kazunari’s back, and sighing against the back of Kazunari's neck, making the tiny hairs there stand on end. Shintarō's affections caused a pool of warmth to gather in Kazunari's gut.

Moments later, Takao heard soft, even breaths, an indication that his hardworking boyfriend had fallen asleep.

* * *

 **AN1** : Shin-chan's [new haircut](http://jmetmisc.tumblr.com/post/129381366887/shintaroh-second-year-midorima-shintar%C5%8D-my) is the one he wore in the KNB Extra Game chapters. The boys are back at Ikea again, though this time only for a short trip. Their initial excursion can be found [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4664187/chapters/13825744).

 **AN2** : Comments and kudos are much appreciated. Seriously, the best part of updating a story is hearing from you.   


	4. What's in the box?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takao comes home with a box, Midorima comes away with a fantasy.

Takao came home with a heavy cardboard box in his arms and a reusable grocery bag hanging over his shoulder. 

He dropped the box onto the floor of the genkan. "I'm home," he announced taking his shoes off, before stepping onto the main living area of the apartment with the bag in tow.

"Welcome back," Shintarō belatedly called out to him from the living room. It was obvious Shin-chan was distracted. 

Shintarō, who'd been too absorbed in his studies to accompany Takao to his parent's house, looked up from his notes scattered across the coffee table. He was seated on the floor with his back against the red velvet couch surrounded by open anatomy text books.

"How are your parents?" Shintarō inquired. He'd been best friends with Takao since their first year of high school and was well acquainted with Takao's relations. 

"Fine," Kazunari answered. "They send their regards. Oh and my mom sent you this," he said lifting a plastic tupperware container out of the bag. "It's my mom's bibimbap." Midorima always enjoyed Takao's mother's cooking.

Shintarō gave Takao a tiny smile. He hadn't eaten a thing all day since Takao left right after breakfast. In fact, other than to use the washroom, Shintarō hadn't moved from the spot he'd been occupying. 

"And these," Kazunari said, lifting the top off a re-purposed plastic tub of cottage cheese to reveal Takao's mother's baked-from-scratch gingersnap cookies. 

"I'm sorry I missed it," Midorima responded.

"Don't be. My aunt's visiting from Okayama. She would've teased you mercilessly."

"An immutable Takao family trait." Shintarō said, studying gene theory.

"Indubitably," Takao responded. "But she's actually my mom's sister. There's not an ounce of 'Takao' in her." 

" _Ah_ , a malady on both sides of your family then," Shintarō observed. "It's a shame I missed her acquaintance." 

Takao walked over to where his roommate was seated and kissed the top of his head. "You've met her," Takao assured him, as he ruffled short, verdant strands. 

"I'll heat up your dinner," he told him, before heading off to the kitchen with the food his mom had packed for him.

The kitchen wasn't too far off from where Shin-chan was sitting. They could easily hold a conversation, though they couldn't see each other from where the hawkeye was standing over the stove.

It was a small apartment though generous by Tokyo standards, especially considering they were both uni students.

"How's your sister?" Shintarō called out from the living room.

"Jealous that I've moved out," Takao responded. "She's dying to come over and visit. I told her you're _extremely_ busy and she's not allowed to until winter break."

Midorima hummed approvingly at Takao's response. Kazumi could be a handful at the best of times and a nuisance most of the time.  

While Takao waited for Shin-chan's food to heat up on the stove, he put some of the gingersnap cookies on one of Sazuna's platters he'd found in the cupboard. He hated having to worry about breaking Shin-chan’s fancy plates, but that was all they had.

Takao placed the heated bibimbap and the plate of cookies on a small clearing on the coffee table. Then he presented Midorima with a pair of chopsticks. "Dig in, Shin-chan."

When Midorima reached for them, Takao pulled them away quickly. "Or does Shin-chan want me to feed him?" he teased.

Shintarō snatched the chopsticks out of his boyfriend's fingers. "Don't be an idiot," he warned.

Takao laughed and in an effort to cut him off, Midorima interjected. "Thanks for the food," he said, a little too loudly.

"Sure thing, Shin-chan," he said. "My parents wouldn't send me home empty handed. They worry about Kazu's boyfriend getting enough to eat."

Midorima pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose in embarrassment. How Takao could be so open with his parents about their relationship was beyond him.

Takao sat on the floor beside Midorima. "My mother wants to turn my bedroom into a home gym," he said, making polite conversation while Shin-chan ate. "She and my dad are on this health kick." 

"What's wrong with that?" Shintarō asked in hopes of deflecting attention from his flushed cheeks.

Takao sputtered. "W-what's wrong with that? What's _wrong_ with that?" he repeated, getting all animated. "She's trying to get rid of my room, that's what. 

"Well, it's not like you're using it," Midorima reasoned.  

"Shin-chan," Takao said accusingly, as if his boyfriend had turned traitor. "Who's side are you on?"

"It's not about taking sides. I'm merely pointing out that it's an empty room."

"It's empty _now_ , but it's like she doesn't expect me to ever come back or something," Takao said with a pout. "How would you feel if your parents tried to turn your room into a gym?"

"My parents already have a home gym," Midorima stated matter-of-factly.

"Well, you get my point. Besides, what about my trading cards, huh? Where am I supposed to keep those?"

"Kazu, you haven't traded cards or bought new ones since our second year of high school."

"That doesn't mean I won't start up again. And besides, I can't just get rid of the ones I have already. They're _valuable_ , you know."

Midorima tried to hide a bemused smile.

"They are," Takao insisted. "One day I'll be able to retire just off my trading cards, you'll see."

Midorima doubted those things were worth the cardboard they were printed on, but his boyfriend was clearly getting upset. "You can bring them here," he observed.

"I can't just bring them here," Takao protested.

"Why not? This is your home as well as mine."

"Except it's not."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying what happens when you go to med school?"

"We'll still be here," Shintarō replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. The medical campus was a stone's throw away from their apartment. It had been one of the reasons Shintarō's parents had leased this particular apartment for him in the first place.

"And afterwards?"

"I don't know. If we have to move, we'll bring them with us," Midorima responded. "What are you getting so worked up about?"

"Nothing, Shin-chan," Takao snapped. He wasn't usually this defensive, but something about the way Shin-chan was dismissing his concerns about the trading cards hit a raw nerve. It wasn't something they had ever talked about. The probable outcome of their relationship. Takao didn't think he could bear speaking about it with Shin-chan because then it would feel all too real. It wasn't about finding a place for the trading cards. It had nothing to do with trading cards. It was about Takao finding a place for himself when he no longer fit into Shin-chan's life.    

Hours later, they were laying in bed together. They'd said their good nights without the usual canoodling. Takao was not in the mood. At the moment, he had his back to Midorima, pointedly staying on his own side.  

The only noise in the room was the quiet hum of the ceiling fan.

And then Midorima unexpectedly spoke into the darkness, startling the hell out of Takao who'd anticipated going to bed without another word.  

"Whatever happens Kazu," he said, using his pet name for Takao. "We'll figure it out together. Okay?"

It wasn't much of a consolation, but it would have to do. After a moment, Takao responded, quietly. "Okay." 

"Come on," Midorima said, lifting the covers off Kazunari. "Come here," he said, opening his arms and making room for Takao on the left side of the bed. 

###

The following morning, Midorima noticed the cardboard box Takao had left in the genkan. 

"What's this?" he asked. 

"Oh, that's just a box of some of my clothes. My mom sent it home with me."

Takao crouched down in front of the box, picked it up with a loud oomph and walked with it to the guest room where he could sort it.

Unlike the walk-in-closet in the master bedroom, the closet in the guest room was mostly empty. Takao was half tempted to leave the box in the closet untouched, but then he opened it.  

Midorima was dusting his ceramic frog collection in the living room humming the second movement of Vivaldi's Spring when he heard Takao call out from behind him.

"Hey, Shin-chan," he said in a sultry voice.

Something in Takao's tone caused Midorima to turn around. Shintarō's mouth fell and so did the feather duster he'd been holding. 

"What is _that_?" he asked.  

"It's my sister's old cheer leading uniform," Takao informed him. 

"Why are you wearing it?"

"Cause it looks good on me," he grinned.

In actuality, Takao's back was too wide for the top to zip so he'd only been able to thread his arms through it. It covered his chest, but the back hung wide open like a hospital gown. It was equally ill fitting on the bottom half of his body. He could only zip the skirt up three-quarters of the way and he was much taller than Kazumi so the skirt was short on him,  _obscenely_  short. 

All of the outfit's deficiencies were evidently overlooked by Shintarō as he stood there dumbfounded, as if his house slippers were glued to the floor. 

Takao's mother had been cleaning her attic and had sent home what she thought was a box of her son's belongings when in reality, the box that Takao had taken home was full of Kazumi's stuff. 

Takao had instantly realized the mix up when he opened the box, but that didn't stop him from trying on his sister's Shūtoku cheerleading uniform as a joke. While he was at it, he thought he'd show Shin-chan. 

What he hadn't expected was his boyfriend's reaction. Midorima was strictly into guys, so Takao didn't think his boyfriend would be into such a cliche fantasy as a cheerleading skirt. 

_Boy was he wrong._

"Well," Takao said deviously. "I just came out here to show you how silly I looked wearing this getup. Guess, I'll go change into my clothes now," he announced to the room. Takao turned around dramatically. Wriggled his derriere a few times before taking a few deliberately short steps away from Shintarō and then he heard the inevitable. 

"Wait. Where are you going?" 

Takao turned back immediately, sidling up to Shin-chan swiftly. _"Oh?"_ he said. "Is that interest I detect Shin-chan?" 

Shintarō picked up the feather duster he'd dropped moments earlier and discretely moved it in front of his pants. "I don't know what your talking about," he told Kazunari. 

"Well then, I guess you don't mind if I go change out of these clothes, after all," Takao innocently suggested.

A red-faced Shintarō pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "I didn't say that either," he retorted looking every which way but at Kazunari.

Takao burst into laughter. "If you want to try something, all you have to do is ask, Shin-chan," he said.

And because he knew his boyfriend needed some coaxing to get out of his shell, Takao grabbed the hand that wasn't holding the feather duster and put it on his bare thigh. "Here," Takao said. "I'll give you a head start."

Midorima cautiously, nervously moved his hand up Takao's thigh.

"Relax, Shin-chan. It's just me," Takao said, all teasing gone from his voice, in it's place was warmth and patience and delight in learning something new about his boyfriend. And then, because Midorima's hand was still trembling, he said, "there's literally nothing you can do wrong here. We can try this and find out if you like it and if you don't then that's all there was to it."

Shintarō sought Takao's gaze as if to reassure himself that everything he'd heard was true. And when he found what he'd been searching for in those familiar, silvery blue eyes, he kissed Kazunari and it sort of escalated from there.

"Wait, wait," Midorima said catching his breath, "we can't do it here." 

"Why not?" Takao asked, having made quick work of his boyfriend's pants and in the midst of removing Midorima's underwear. Takao had lost his poorly secured top ages ago and his skirt was hiked up to his ribs. 

"This is my great aunt's couch."

"So?" Takao asked, not seeing where his boyfriend was going with this and more importantly why wasn't Shin-chan helping him pull his underwear down.

"So I used to sit here with my parents when we'd go visit her."

". . ."

"It's weird," Midorima insisted. Takao had the tact not to point out that _he_ was the one in his sister's borrowed clothes. 

"Fine," Takao said giving in. He unceremoniously pushed his unsuspecting boyfriend off the couch and onto the floor -- "Hey what the hell?!" Shintarō exclaimed -- and proceeded as if he hadn't been interrupted.

"Idiot, you're heavy," Midorima complained when Takao landed on top of him. They proceeded to suck face and moments later, Midorima said, "No. Leave the skirt on, just take off your underwear." 

And then there were no more complaints from his tsundere, because Takao found something else to occupy Midorima's mouth.

###

"What are you doing?" Midorima asked. 

"Texting my mom," Takao responded. "I should probably let her know that I have Kazumi's box.

Midorima put a hand over Takao's phone. "What about the uniform?" he inquired. They both pointedly gazed at the laundry hamper in the corner of the bedroom. 

Takao grinned at him, "I guess that's staying with us." 

###

Sazuna dropped by unannounced on a Thursday. 

Shintarō begrudgingly opened the front door for his mother.

"What a pleasant surprise," he said in a tone that suggested just the opposite. "How kind of you to stop by."

"Oh don't take that tone with me," Sazuna chastised her eldest. "You would've known I was coming if you'd stop ignoring my calls." 

"I don't know what your referring to," Shintarō said, even as he shoved the phone deep into his pocket. 

Despite his put upon demeanor, Shintarō's face softened when moments later his little sister walked into the apartment.  

Takao couldn't help but grin at the sight of Shin-chan greeting Shuzuko. Shin-chan was gruff and curt with almost everyone, but it was obvious he held a soft spot for his little sister, treating her with kid gloves.  

Midorima Shuzuko was all of nine years old now. Takao had made her acquaintance when she was only six and mortified over having just lost her two front teeth.

The teeth had grown in since then and so had Shuzuko, she had now surpassed her mother in stature. 

"Kazu-nii!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms over Takao and pulling him into a hug. Shuzuko had been shy with Takao when they had first met, but by now she'd known him a third of her young life.

Ordinarily, Takao should've been worried about the fact that the boxers he'd worn yesterday were on the floor of what was _supposed_ to be Midorima's room, that there were condom wrappers in the wastepaper basket next to the nightstand, and that there was still a broken bed in what was supposed to be Takao's room. But Sazuna was not the type of mother to clean up when she visited her son's college apartment.

Sazuna wasn't accustomed to cleaning her own home. And she certainly wasn't going to do Midorima's laundry so there was no danger of her discovering that half the clothes in her son's hamper were much too small for him and most alarming of all, the contents of said hamper included a soiled high school cheerleader's uniform. 

While Midorima bickered with his mother in the living room, Takao took Shuzuko under his wing. 

"You seem happy, kiddo," Takao told Shuzuko. He noted how broadly the little girl was grinning as he led her into the kitchen. 

"Wanna know a secret?" she said, whispering conspiratorially even though it was just the two of them in there.

"Sure," Takao said, pulling a kitchen stool out for her so she could take a seat. He reached into the plastic tub that rested on top of the fridge and handed Shuzuko one of his mother's gingersnap cookies.

By now, their numbers were quickly dwindling. As much as he liked to deny it, Shin-chan certainly had a sweet tooth.

The little girl took the cookie from him and grinned. "I can run," she announced as if it was the most wondrous discovery.  

"Oh?" Takao asked, because he didn't know what he'd been expecting, but it hadn't been that. 

Shuzuko's eyes lit up with excitement. They were the same lovely shade of green as her brother's. Hers were framed by delicate, wire rimmed spectacles that complimented their shape.

"We had health and fitness day at school," she told Takao. "Coach lined us up and had us race to the flag pole and guess what!"

"What?" Takao asked because he honestly had no clue where this was going.

"I won!" she said beaming with pride. "Can you believe it?!"

Like her brother before her, Shuzuko was tall for an elementary schooler. She had long legs that were just perfect for sprinting. Takao wondered why anyone would expect a different outcome. Then he remembered that Shuzuko went to an exclusive school for proper, well to-do young ladies. Running and jumping were not usually part of the curricula. 

"Coach was really impressed," Shuzuko told Takao, her face turning a lovely rosy hue. "She asked me to run again. _Just me_. And she used a stopwatch to time me. She said the school will be starting a track team and they're going to have try outs, but she's confident I'll make the team. Isn't that amazing?!"

Takao smiled at Shuzuko. "That's great, kiddo!" he said giving her a high-five.   

"I'm going to be part of a team, Kazu-nii," she exclaimed. " _Me_ ," she said pointing to herself as if she couldn't wrap her head around it.

Shuzuko was a smart little girl with immaculate grades and an immense talent for music. But there was no reason she couldn't be talented in other areas too.  

Takao was not at all surprised that Shuzuko had natural athletic ability. One only needed to look at her brother. But it saddened him to think she'd never had the opportunity to discover it up until now.  

Not for the first time, Takao was glad that Shin-chan's mother had been checked-out when it had come time for Shin-chan to pick a high school. Shin-chan had chosen Shūtoku all by himself because at the time, things had not been going well at home and Sazuna had been too wrapped up with her husband to bother matriculating her son in secondary school. 

If Sazuna had had a say, she would've enrolled Shin-chan in some posh, stuffy school like Rakuzan and Takao would've never befriended Shin-chan. Takao shuddered at the horrible thought. 

"So, to what do we owe this lovely visit, Shuzu-chan?" Takao asked, more than mildly curious and a little alarmed that Shin-chan's mom would just drop by. Bunkyō was nowhere near Shin-chan's parents' house or any of Sazuna's usual high-end retail haunts. 

"We came after violin practice," Shuzuko told him. "Mother's been taking me lately instead of Nanny." 

"Oh?" Takao asked because taking your children to after-school activities was not the sort of motherly undertaking that Sazuna tended to.

Shuzuko must've picked up on Takao's astonishment because she giggled. "She doesn't want to spend time at home. She's avoiding, Auntie," she confided in him.  "Auntie" was Shin-chan and Shuzuko's great-aunt. The one who'd lent them the red velvet couch. Takao grimaced at the impoverished state of that misused piece of furniture.

"She's still there?" Takao mentally counted back the months. Midorima's great aunt had been staying with them since spring.

"Yes," Shuzuko said mischievously. "Mother doesn't get on with her. She said Auntie's too critical of her."

Takao had to stifle himself so he wouldn't burst out laughing at the absurdity of never-satisfied Sazuna complaining of someone else being critical.  

They stayed in the kitchen chatting and sometime later an exhausted Shintarō walked in wearing a light trench coat. "Let's go, Takao," he said with no fanfare.

"What?" Takao exclaimed. "Where are we going?" he asked because as far as he knew the only plans they had this evening were for Shin-chan to bury his nose in a text book and for Takao to try to suppress the urge to interrupt him.

"Mother is taking us to dinner," Shintarō announced with all the solemnity of a man who'd been condemned to the gallows.

Takao would rather extract his own tooth than have dinner with Sazuna, but what choice did he have? He looked at Shuzuko as if they were both in on a joke.

"I told you she doesn't want to go home," Shuzuko giggled.  

* * *

 **AN1** : The cheerleading uniform was alluded to by Takao in [Fools Rush In](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4880893/chapters/12939322). And ever since then, I've wanted to write this scene. Hope you liked it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Another self-indulgent piece was the scene with Takao and Shuzuko. Shin-chan and Takao are both really tight with their sisters in different ways and I always like writing scenes where one of the boys interacts with their boyfriend's sister. Shin-chan's interactions with Kazumi are always very wacky and Takao's interactions with Shuzuko are invariably very sweet.   

 **AN2** : Back in 2014, when I wrote the first installment of this series, I didn't realize that Japanese med students start med school right out of high school. This creates a problem for my chronology because Shin-chan gets into a pretty big fight with his father his "first" year of med school which in reality would actually be his fourth year. Anyway, DLMD takes place before that fight. I apologize for not researching the issue sooner.

 **AN3:** This story has an angsty undercurrent to it, that I didn't get when I was writing the others. I think that if Takao were looking back on their life together, he'd probably feel uneasy about this time in their life. Not because he didn't love moving in with Shin-chan (he did), but because so much of their life at this juncture was up in the air and completely out of their control.   

Hope you're enjoying the story. Next chapter we should get some KagaKuro.


	5. Why are you still there?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takao does some mid-semester navel gazing

Takao knew he wasn't having the most typical uni experience. He wasn't living in a dorm or signing up for clubs or joining student government or doing any of the other things he saw his classmates doing. Takao wasn’t sure where all this navel gazing was coming from. He wasn’t even sure why he was having these thoughts _now,_ of all times, when he should have been concentrating on an opponent who was hard to see at best, and nearly invisible at worst.

Takao passed the ball to Kise in the nick of time and even with Ryōta’s copycat skills the two of them were just a fraction of a second out of sync.

It wouldn’t have even been noticeable, except Takao knew what it was like to be with a partner who was truly attuned. He knew what it was like to move as one on the court. It was impossible to replicate the coordination Takao and Shintarō had developed over the years. Takao and Kise only ever paired up for friendly games of streetball. Still, Ryōta caught the pass and made the three-point shot that tied the game, giving both sides a well-deserved water break.

Takao checked his phone even before taking a long swig from the sports drink he’d purchased from the park vending machine earlier. When they had started playing, the drink had tasted cold and refreshing, but now that the sun had had time to warm it up, it was quite unsavory. It actually tasted like the sweat in its name. 

Evidently, Ryōta had had the same thought, because he had run over to the vending machines to buy cold drinks for everyone.

Shin-chan was taking his last midterm. Takao had finished his exams yesterday and consequently was a free man. He’d expected to spend the day with Kuroko browsing the trading card shops and later the bookstore (Kagami was away on a team building retreat). So when Takao had gotten a text from Aomine inviting them out, he’d jumped at the chance.

There were few things Takao loved more than shooting hoops. And there was no sense in wasting a perfectly good Saturday when he could spend it on the court. It wasn’t often they got together with Aomine. And it was an even bigger rarity that they got to play basketball at all.

Takao ran the back of his hand over his brow wiping off the sweat. While he waited for Ryōta to return, his thoughts wandered back to the topic du jour. He was not having the most typical university experience. Then again, most of his friends weren't either.

Kuroko had practically moved in with Kagami his last year of high school and never moved out. If Kagami's father ever got around to visiting his son whom he purportedly shared an apartment with, he'd find an interesting living arrangement.

Kuroko was going to uni and majoring in education, but Kagami wasn't going to school at all. He was training to be a firefighter. And for all intents and purposes, he really seemed to have found his calling.

Kise wasn't even going to college. He was modeling for now, but Takao knew that wasn't a permanent arrangement. After all, everyone ages and who knew how long the 19-year-old Ryōta could reasonably continue to be the face of Zunon _Boy_ magazine.

If Ryōta had been bothered by the fact that he'd practically bombed his college entrance exams, he didn't let on. Ryōta was as bright and sunny and guarded as he'd always been. _Fake_ , as Aomine had once decried on the basketball court. This of course was followed by accusations of _Aominecchi's so mean!_ , and other similar protestations. Takao had sat through this performance enough times to recognize the next act.

Aomine was not without his own struggles. He had _barely_ been accepted to his college (Harasawa-sensei must’ve embellished quite a bit in that recommendation letter he'd written. It was surely a work of fiction). Even now Daiki was falling behind on his workload and wasn’t keeping up with the material.

He'd never been a stellar student to begin with. Three-fifths of the Miracles weren't exactly scholars, though everyone overlooked that point because they were so otherworldly otherwise.

Kise got by on his good looks so he'd never had to put much effort into schoolwork. Aomine and Murasakibara suffered from the same ailment, apathy. But unlike Aomine, Atsushi knew the way to his heart was through his stomach.

Atsushi had decided his interests lay elsewhere. He stopped pushing pencils after high school. Instead, he was learning how to torch creme brulees and how to properly season a crepe pan. For the first time in his life, the not-so-jolly giant had found his passion. In that respect, Takao envied the enormous man-baby. Takao didn't have a clue what he wanted to be when he grew up. 

Aomine, however, had not learned the lesson that not everyone was suited for higher education. He had decided to push himself and matriculate in college. And lucky for Aomine, Momoi was a better friend than he deserved. Satsuki had once again put whatever plans she'd had for herself on hold to follow Aomine to _his_ university. No doubt she'd keep an eye on him and make sure he didn't flunk out.

It was one thing to be friends or even best friends, but the level of devotion Aomine had somehow engendered in Satsuki, was something else. It was the kind of shadow and light relationship Takao saw in Kuroko and Kagami and recognized in himself and Shintarō. Except Kuroko and Kagami and he and Shin-chan were in committed, long-term relationships. They were actually dating. Takao wondered if Aomine was even cognizant of what he had in Satsuki. Or if Satsuki herself even knew the limits of what she was willing to do if Aomine needed her to. It wasn't as if Satsuki was sitting at home pining over Aomine either. As far as Takao could tell she didn't eschew her own admirers. And yet they remained the two most oblivious people Takao knew.

Once everyone had finished their drinks, the game resumed with Aomine and Kise growing more and more competitive with each other after each basket. It wasn't long before Takao and Kuroko fell by the wayside. They were unable to keep up with the two Miracles going up against each other and in the process, turning a friendly game of two-on-two into a head-to-head match up.

Kise tried every copycat move he could think of until he settled on Aomine’s formless shot. Even though Ryōta made the shot, it was Aomine who crowed in victory. “As expected,” he declared smugly, “the only one who can beat me is me.”

“Except, it wasn’t you, it was _me_ ,” Ryōta retorted back. The two of them went back and forth until Takao interrupted.

"I'd better get going," he said, the game had ceased to be fun ages ago. “Shin-chan should be done by now and he probably hasn't eaten yet."

"For fuck's sake," Aomine complained. “You got a kid at home or something?"

"Tch." Takao _hated_ when Aomine got like this. All in his face and confrontational. His eyes were manic. Like a caged animal who’d gotten a taste of red meat and was hankering for more. It was clear Aomine loved competition. But it wasn’t Takao who was giving him the challenge Aomine craved so much.

It had been Kise. This was supposed to be fun. This was supposed to be a friendly game. And now these two idiots had fallen into their old rivalries forgetting Kuroko and Takao were even there until moments ago when Takao had interrupted them.

Kuroko ever the diplomat, chimed in. “Takao-kun is being considerate of Midorima-kun," he said. And then he add a bristly remark, "It's something Aomine-kun should try sometime."

Takao knew from Shin-chan that Aomine and Kuroko had been close in middle school and then there had been a rift. Actually, there had been several fault lines that had formed among the Miracles, causing them to all disburse to different high schools. Most of the Miracles hadn’t even been on speaking terms until their respective schools had played each other that fateful first year of high school.

For better or worse, those rifts had more or less mended -- Shin-chan was certainly a lot chummier with Akashi than Takao would like. But every once in awhile their shared history crept back up.

Kuroko couldn't reign in his tongue. It was clear that whatever it was that Aomine had done to Kuroko was patched-up (he’d accepted Aomine’s invitation to come out and play), but not forgotten their history.

“. . . Testu,” Aomine said, his brash attitude disspating and quickly turning conciliatory, “don’t be like that.”

Kuroko folded his arms over his chest. His face may have been expressionless, but it was clear Aomine would need to do some groveling if he wanted to get into his former light’s good graces again.

Takao bent down to pick up his phone and his share of the recyclables. “I’m out,” he said. “You can give the ball back later.”

"Wait!" Kise called out. "I'll go with you Takaocchi."

". . . Um." Takao was at a loss for words.

Once again Kuroko came to Takao's rescue, “You come with us, Kise-kun. Aomine-kun will be buying me a milkshake at Maji Burger to make up for his boorish behavior. We can stop to get mineral water for you on the way there.”

 _Thank you_ , Takao mouthed to Kuroko when the other two went to collect their things. Takao knew Shin-chan would hiss like an affronted cat if Takao brought Kise home with him.

###

Takao took his sneakers off in the genkan. “I’m home,” he called out as he put his shoes away in the shoe cubby lest Shintarō lose his shit.

“Welcome back, idiot.” Midorima responded in his usual, bored monotone. Takao would be lying if he said that deep, rumbly voice didn’t do it for him.

Takao walked over to Midorima who was sitting primly on their red velvet couch and reading a text book.

“Really, Shin-chan?” Takao asked in mock disbelief as he leaned in to both kiss Midorima hello on the mouth and remove the offending object from Midorima’s hands. “What are you doing with that? You just had your last midterm. You can’t possibly have anything left to study.”

“ _Fool_ , I’m reviewing the answers.”

“Not anymore, Shin-chan.” Takao quickly got out of Midorima’s reach, taking the book with him. “You need a break. Heaven knows you deserve it.”

“You stink,” Shintarō retorted, but he didn’t get up off the couch, so Takao counted that as a victory.

“I know.” Takao chuckled. He’d been given wide berth on the train on the ride home. “I’ve been sizzling in the sun.”

“How was the game?” Shintarō inquired.

“Your friends are an absolute nightmare,” Takao informed him. He decided to keep the details light. No sense antagonizing Midorima by telling him Aomine had gotten in Takao’s face when he cut the game short.

“I could have told you that,” Midorima said. Picking up a medical journal from the coffee table for lack of anything better to do with his unexpected free time.

Takao rushed to intercede. “Here,” he said, putting the remote in his boyfriend’s hand. “Watch something on the tube, like most people.”

Shintarō rolled his eyes at Takao, but he did turn on the television.

"You hungry, Shin-chan?" Takao inquired.

"No." Midorima said firmly, as if Takao had asked the most impertinent question. And then his treacherous stomach grumbled, answering Kazunari on its own. Just as Takao had suspected, Shin-chan hadn't eaten a thing since breakfast.

Takao chuckled. "Alright, Shin-chan. I’m going to take a quick shower and then I’ll make us both lunch,” he said pulling the sweat dampened jersey over his head. He got a whiff of himself in the process. “Pee-yew. Shin-chan you weren’t kidding. I really do stink.”

“Go away, fool.”

###

Takao was being a pest. For once, Midorima had taken Takao’s advice and tried to relax.

After scanning a multitude of channels he’d finally found a documentary on tea houses during the Muromachi period. This was the sort of educational, public sponsored television programming Shintarō approved of, unlike those tacky game shows and ridiculous foreign dramas Takao was so fond of watching.

 _That's the maid_. Takao had explained one evening when Shintarō had committed the grave miscalculation of storming out of the bedroom to demand to know the origins of the infernal racket that was keeping him from his studies. Takao had pointed to a buxom young actress on the screen of their television set. _She's the daughter of the wealthy landlord, but the family doesn't know it yet because she was switched at birth with the person who they all think is the real daughter because the mother contracted amnesia shortly after going into labor_. Takao had tried to bring his boyfriend up to speed on the convoluted plot of his new favorite soap opera. _Seems far-fetched and highly contrived_ , Shintarō had responded giving Takao a disapproving eye roll. _And more importantly, will you turn down the volume, some of us are trying to study!_ He'd said, before slamming the bedroom door shut.

Shintarō had been surprised when Takao had sat down beside him on the red velvet couch after lunch. (Shintarō had insisted that they eat their meal at the dining room table, because that was what dining room tables were made for, never mind that at times, Takao seemed to think the height of the dining room table made it perfect for other things).

This wasn't the sort of subject matter that piqued the hawkeye's more banal interests. Nonetheless, Shintarō could still smell the shampoo on Kazunari's messily air-dried hair and it was not unappealing. 

As the documentary progressed, Takao began shifting, making himself more comfortable until Shintarō found himself lying down on the couch spooning his smaller boyfriend.

"Something wrong, Shin-chan?" Takao wiggled his derriere. "You seem distracted."

It was almost as if Takao enjoyed tormenting him. "Stop moving, fool."

" _Oh_? Is that bothering you? I'm just trying to get comfy, Shin-chan. That's all." Takao explained in his most innocent voice.

The brunette knew exactly what he was doing. "Quit squirming you idiot, I'm trying to watch the program," Shintarō groused.

"Are you having trouble concentrating, Shin-chan? I can't imagine why," Takao said, redoubling his efforts against the front placket of his boyfriend's trousers, applying the kind of friction you’d expect from a forest scout.

“Are you trying to start a campfire in our living room, Takao?”

“Is it working, Shin-chan?”

“ _Hmph_. I won’t even dignify that with a response.”

Takao took Midorima’s remark as a challenge and continued his rhythmic assault on the front of Shintarō’s pants until he got the intended result.

“Wow, Shin-chan. I knew you liked tea pots,” Takao chortled as he pointed to the television screen, “but I didn’t know you _liked_ tea pots.”

“I don’t know what you’re referring to Takao.”

Contrary to what his middle school teammates might think, Midorima Shintarō was not so Pollyanna-ish as to not get Takao's drift. Not anymore, anyway. He may have taken _forever and a day_ to get there, but he'd gotten there. Midorima Shintarō had arrived. He knew _exactly_ what Kazunari was intent on doing. And frankly his current condition was getting _hard_ for him to ignore, so to speak.

Of course, what Midorima tried to ignore, Takao brought to the forefront. “I’m referring to that stiffy you’re sporting inside your --”

He plucked Takao's hands from their resting place on the seat cushion and placed them over the hawkeye's head, holding them in place. "Stop with these heavy handed seduction tactics, you lecherous man," Shintarō said to his boyfriend. "They are absolutely _not_ going to work," he insisted even as he pushed Takao onto the soft velvet seat cushions, pinning Takao beneath his larger frame.

Like this, pressed up against Kazunari, it was easy for Midorima to tell that Takao was also in much the same predicament as Midorima was. Though that didn’t stop the hawkeye from teasing Midorima about it.

"Your words may deny it, but Shin-chan's body is always honest," Takao bucked against Midorima to make his point as if Shintarō wasn’t well aware of the state of his own pants.

"Hey Shin-chan," Takao wiggled some more. "You're heavy."

A smirk spread across Midorima's lips. "You weren't complaining last night."

Takao sputtered because who was this man and what had he done with his boyfriend. "Eh?!"

"Oh don't look so shocked,” Midorima retorted. “We've been doing this for years."

"Yes, but you don't usually acknowledge it. Especially in broad daylight." It wasn’t even three o’clock yet, for crying out loud.

"I don't want to hear that coming from you, Takao. This is all your fault. You caused this and you’re going to fix it."

Takao could not _possibly_ look more delighted over Midorima's threat.

Long forgotten was the documentary on tea houses which droned on in the background like some informative white noise accompaniment to the moans and groans now emanating from the red velvet couch.

###

Shintarō fell asleep on Takao’s chest afterward. Takao gazed lovingly at his boyfriend -- up close and personal and not wearing glasses, bare except for the soft afghan that blanketed both of them.

Sure, Midorima was heavy, but he looked so cute like this, Takao didn’t have the heart to wake him. Instead, the hawkeye reached for his phone at the foot of the couch, nestled on the floor next to his rumpled jeans.

Takao snapped a picture of a dozing Midorima’s face.

 _Look how long Shin-chan’s eyelashes are_ , he typed out adoringly in a text he sent Kuroko along with the photographic evidence.

Moments later Kuroko sent him a reply picture of his own with the words, “still here,” in the caption.

It was a snapshot of Kise and Aomine inside -- Takao zoomed in with his fingers because he couldn’t quite believe his eyes -- the clear plastic slides in the ball pit at Maji Burger.

 _HOW????_ Takao asked and then he added, _Why are they so shiny????_

Kuroko’s only response was, _You know how competitive Aomine is._

Takao nodded because as bizarre as that photo was, it actually made sense. Aomine had lost to Kise on the basketball court. Naturally, he’d want to challenge him again the next opportunity he got. He couldn’t bait Kise into a hamburger eating contest like he could Kagami. _So they decided to race each other down the slides?_

_Yes._

_Okay. But why didn’t the employees kick them out?_

_They tried_ , Kuroko text back.

Something dawned on Takao while reading Kuroko's latest text. It had been hours since Takao parted ways with them at the park.  _Why r u still there???_

_They're stuck. In the slides. The cooking oil didn't loosen them so we’re waiting for the fire department to come cut them out._

Takao couldn’t stop himself from snickering. Midorima grumbled in protest. “Sorry Shin-chan” he said, kissing the top of Midorima’s head and rubbing Midorima's back with his free hand, "Go back to sleep."

Takao may not have been having the most typical of college experiences, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel like he was missing out either. His friends were idiots, but they still made him laugh and he didn’t think he could be happier than where he was right now with Shintarō asleep on his chest.

* * *

 **AN1** : Yoo-hoo! Any readers still here? Remember this fic? Yeah, it's been forever and a day since I updated. Not much happened in this chapter, but I still feel like I've accomplished something. This story has been stuck (like Kise and Aomine *snickers*) and I just needed to get this chapter done so I can move on to more plotty things. 

 **AN2** : Please let me know if you're still reading this story. What you like, what you don't like (but b kind), what you'd like to see more of. I noticed while writing this chapter that these two are going at it like bunnies in this fic. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ I'm not sure why that is. I mean at this point, that couch is going to have to be re-sprung and certainly reupholstered. Next chapter will also feature some amorous activity. I guess it makes sense since they've just started shacking up?   


	6. When Did You Start Cooking?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takao convinces Shin-chan to go out and have some fun. Well, he succeeds at one of those things, anyway.

Midorima Shintarō finally made it through midterms. And as punishment for all his hard work, he was forced to fraternize with the devil, or as Takao liked to call him, _Kise_.

They hurried toward a busy street to hail a cab, to make their way to that den of sin and iniquity that was Ryōta's Shibuya apartment.

They were running late. They had left their apartment in a hurry and tempers -- Shintarō’s anyway -- were flaring. They were running late and Midorima Shintarō was in one of his _moods_. Midorima had been perfectly content to spend an evening at home, but _no_ , Takao had insisted that they go out. Takao had told him he was _bored_. Consequently, Midorima was wearing a put-upon scowl that had assuredly caused the first three cab drivers to drive right past them. 

"Shin-chan," Takao asked when they'd finally succeeded in hailing a cab, "did you remember to turn off the lights?" The hawkeye's cheeks were flushed for reasons that had nothing to do with exerting himself to keep pace with Midorima's brisk walk. Kazunari's lips were kiss bitten, the state of his neck hidden beneath a form-fitting black turtleneck.   
  
"Yes, _Nanny_ ," Shintarō howled with a heaping helping of annoyance, shooting his boyfriend a glare and an eye roll for good measure.

 _Nanny_  was a reference to Nanny Hamasaki who was Shuzuko's nanny. She had been with the Midorima family for over nine years now. By the time Nanny had joined the not-so-happy household, Shintarō had already been long in the tooth. His then heavy-with-child mother had hired kind, but assuredly homely Nanny to take care of the soon-to-be new addition to the Midorima clan. Unlike Shintarō, who'd gone through a slew of nannies before he got too big for his britches, Shuzuko had had the good fortune of calling only one woman "nanny." Nanny Hamasaki had secured long term employment for one reason. As far as Midorima's mother was concerned, Nanny's most important job qualification was that she was plain-looking and thus wouldn't arouse the attentions of her wandering-eyed husband.

Midorima's family was so fucked-up. Takao was all too aware. He could write a whole dissertation on it, that is, if he ever figured out what the hell he wanted to major in. Judging from his latest test scores, his major probably wouldn't be psychology anyway. 

Although Nanny Hamasaki had been hired to be Shuzuko's nanny, Takao suspected that Nanny did a bit of uncompensated mothering on the side when it came to Shintarō. It was apparent to Takao from the way Nanny always doted on Shin-chan. Takao had witnessed it first-hand in high school being, himself a near-constant presence at Midorima's house and even now whenever they visited Midorima's parents which thankfully, wasn't too often. Especially now that Midorima's great aunt had taken up residence there, making Sazuna even more unbearable. Evidently, Nanny must've also done her fair share of motherly nagging too, if Shin-chan was now calling Takao by her name. 

Shintarō was more than a little offended by the question. _The nerve of Takao to ask such a thing_ , Shintarō thought indignantly. As if _he'd_ be so scatterbrained as to forget something so basic as turning off the lights before they'd left their apartment.

While Midorima sulked on his side of the taxi-cab legs crossed and pointing towards the door in an uninviting manner, Takao was trying to figure out what had set his boyfriend off. Shin-chan was a homebody by nature, but even homebodies needed to get out from time to time. In the days leading up to his mid-terms, the ordinarily pallid Shintarō had turned practically see-through, holed up in his bedroom for hours on end frantically reviewing his flashcards. 

Takao felt it was his solemn duty to bring a little fun into Midorima's life. Every once in a while, Takao had to put his foot down and make sure his Shin-chan was properly socialized. If Midorima had it his way, he'd probably turn into one of those hermits with the long beards. Takao wasn't sure if Midorima  _could_ grow a beard. The fastidiously groomed Midorima picking up a razor at even the semblance of a five o'clock shadow, but Takao could at least picture it. It was not an _unpleasant_  vision. In fact, Takao found he liked it a lot actually, and his nimble mind hopped on the next logical train of thought - - what it would feel like to kiss a bearded Shin-chan. From there, Takao's mind ruminated to what it would feel like for bearded Shin-chan to kiss the insides of Takao's thighs like not-bearded Shin-chan had done earlier that evening. The thought certainly stirred some interest in Takao's flat-front chinos. He'd have to investigate this bearded Shin-chan business further, minus the hermit stuff.

Shifting in his seat to discretely adjust his now, not so flat-front chinos, Takao set his mind to work on a more pressing problem.

Bunkyō to Shibuya was a mere twenty minute-cab ride -- twenty-five, maybe thirty if they were lucky enough to encounter grid lock. Takao did not have much time to work with. He opted for the quick fix. It was nighttime and dark in the cab. They were alone in the backseat, a pair of autumn coats lay in the space between them and would provide the perfect cover. 

Feeling like he'd been gifted with an opportunity by those circumstances, Takao's hand breached the short distance between them. He reached for Midorima's long, elegant fingers.

Shintarō looked away, ostensibly to stare out the window even as he accepted the hand that lay atop their coats and gave Takao's cold fingers a light, affectionate squeeze. It was Shintarō’s way of making amends, his way of apologizing for snapping at Takao earlier.

It was a phenomenon he had never experienced with anyone else. They could fight and make up without a single word.

They were so in sync with each other, they could communicate wordlessly through hand gestures or facial expressions, even something as subtle as a change in posture spoke volumes to one another. 

It was a language they had developed on their own. Although it had been born out of a closeness forged through countless hours spent practicing on the basketball court, their connectedness didn't disappear simply because they'd both retired from the sport their senior year of high school. If anything, they'd grown even closer now that they were living together.

Takao moved their joined hands beneath the coats where it was warm, where they could share in this quiet moment under a cloak of privacy. He doubted the weary cab driver had any inclination to look back and see what his passengers were up to in the backseat, but Midorima was an intensely private person. Something like holding hands in public would be unthinkable. 

Takao knew he was merely slapping a band-aid on the situation. Whatever had set off Midorima had little to do with the state of the lights in their apartment. Midorima was not one to fret about such banal trivialities as the utility bill.

Still, this quick-fix would have to do for the time being. Takao knew Kise pushed all of Midorima's buttons -- inadvertently or not -- and he had to do something to diffuse the situation before Ryōta made it worse by merely deigning to exist in Midorima's presence.

###

Shintarō’s heart jackhammered in his chest at even this simple gesture and it wasn't until Takao reassuringly interlaced their fingers together and brought their joined hands beneath the warmth of their jackets that Shintarō began to feel at ease, thoughts of his earlier irritation at Takao's stray comment quickly dissipating into the recycled air of the cab. It wasn't the inquiry about the lights that bothered Shintarō so much as Takao saying he was bored. Takao had said it in passing, earlier that day when Midorima wanted to stay home and Takao was trying to persuade him to go out. 

Midorima sought Takao's reflection in the window. Kazunari responded with a lopsided grin which was reflected for Shintarō on the glass panel in front of him.

Not that he'd ever tell Takao, but Midorima's favorite smile in the entire world was the one that was presently gracing his boyfriend's lips. The one that so often appeared when it was just the two of them, when Takao looked at Shintarō like he couldn’t _believe_ he could be so lucky. When in fact it was the exact opposite, Shintarō was the lucky one. It was Shintarō who should be questioning why someone like Takao had agreed to go out with him. 

Kazunari telling him he was bored confirmed Shintarō's deepest fears. 

Shintarō did his level best to regain his composure even as his foolhardy heart fluttered all on its own in response to the Scorpio’s unguarded affections in the backseat of the taxicab.

Feeling his insecurities mollified for the time being, Shintarō allowed himself to relax, to sink back into the cushy seat.

Surely, Shintarō had nothing to worry about. Surely, Takao hadn't meant he was bored with _him_.

Shintarō did not let go of Kazunari’s hand until the cab turned onto the busy street that ran in front of Ryōta’s apartment building. Given Ryōta’s boisterous personality it was only fitting that the man lived on the loudest and most obnoxious street in the neighborhood. It fitted Ryōta to a T. 

###

They arrived fifteen minutes later than the agreed upon meeting time and it pissed Midorima off to no end when he learned that Ryōta wasn't ready yet, forcing them to let go of the cab and come upstairs to wait for Ryōta to finish getting dressed.

Their friend greeted them at the front door of his apartment wearing a sheepish grin and an unbelievably plush looking bathrobe which had all the markings of being hurriedly thrown on. 

"You remember - - " Ryōta paused for a moment as if he were thinking very hard about something and still drawing a blank, "Asa - -, Asa - - "

"Asahara," the man interjected, one hand inside the sleeve of his jacket and the other fishing for his boots nestled among a multitude of Ryōta's designer shoes in the genkan. Midorima had never seen the man before in his life, but Takao recognized him as the bartender from that tavern with the lax ID checks, the one he'd gone to with Ryōta months ago.

"Anyway," Ryōta said, "Asahara-san was just leaving."

The buttons down the front of the man's shirt were misaligned. "Call me," the man said boldly to Ryōta before making a quick exit. 

Kise pulled his robe taut against his body. He laughed nervously, like he wanted to pretend none of _that_ had just happened. Takao was more than willing to play along; he chanced a quick glance at Shin-chan who looked positively scandalize, like he was going to be in need of a fainting couch and some smelling salts soon. 

Takao took hold of his boyfriend's elbow and steered him unwillingly into Ryōta's apartment.  

In his haste to make himself decent, Ryōta had forgotten to fix his smudged eyeliner. Incredibly, even _that_ looked good on him.  
  
Takao was beginning to think that it was physically impossible for Kise Ryōta to look anything less than stunning at all times. Even shitfaced, the blond didn't look well, _shitfaced_. He was a nine at the worst of times and Takao had seen Ryōta through some pretty bad times. 

The pale yellow color of the bathrobe coupled with Ryōta’s sweat-damp hair reminded Takao of a freshly hatched baby chick.

###

Any resemblance to cute baby farm animals did nothing to temper Midorima's murderous gaze. After all, had Shintarō known Ryōta wouldn't be ready, he and Takao wouldn't have rushed out of their apartment earlier. He would've taken his time with his boyfriend. He could've at least _finished_. 

Ryōta had the decency -- or self-preservation instinct -- to at least _look_ contrite, not that the blond’s sorrowful facial expression fooled Shintarō for a single instant. 

While Takao assured Ryōta his unprepardness was no big deal and _of course_ , they knew Asahara-san was just a friend who'd innocently stopped by for a quick visit, Midorima shot Ryōta a disapproving glare as he ventured further into the man's apartment. Den of sin and iniquity did not _begin_ to cover it. 

Midorima didn't believe for a moment Ryōta was capable of feeling _actual_ guilt over inconveniencing his friends or over anything else for that matter. Regrettably, Shintarō was childhood friends with Ryōta. He had known the blond even longer than he'd known Takao.

Ryōta was an expert at mimicking human emotion. Shintarō knew this first hand. It was a wonder Ryōta had yet to go into acting given his copycat skills and his movie-star good looks. 

Shintarō knew all too well that Ryōta could cry on demand. And one unfortunate time, Shintarō had personally witnessed Ryōta, very literally, cry at the drop of a hat.

It was back during their middle school days when Aomine -- in one of his all too frequent Teiko-era jocular bouts of dickheadedness -- had plucked Ryōta’s fashionable headwear off his unsuspecting, pretty blond head and flung it out of their second-story history class window just to see where it'd land because what person under the age of forty or outside a popular adventuring archaeologist movie franchise even owned a fedora anyway? 

So _no_ , Shintarō would not for one minute buy the sincerity of Ryōta’s tearful apology for not being dressed and ready to go. 

And while Shintarō made a big show of the inconvenience of having to take off his shoes and his coat and wait for Ryōta to get dressed, Takao was already shooting the shit with their host, leaving Midorima behind in the living room as he followed their good-looking friend into the bedroom quarters of the large apartment.

Ryōta's apartment was frankly a ridiculous amount of space for one person. Shintarō questioned the necessity of having a 2LDK when Ryōta didn't even have someone to room with. Then again, the closets in the hallway and both bedrooms were already bursting at the seams and Kise had only moved in this April.  
  
Predictably, Kise's bedroom was a wreck. It looked like a cyclone had made landfall on his bed. It shouldn't have been a shock to anyone given that they had very nearly caught Ryōta and his, his . . . _gentleman caller_ with their pants down.

“Your room is a disgrace,” Midorima announced when he finally gave up waiting in protest in the living room and reluctantly joined the other two in Ryōta’s bedroom. 

Kazunari who used to keep an equally messy room at his parents’ house, kept his mouth shut. Now Takao cohabited with Mr. Cleanfreak -- if Shin-chan had his way, he'd make the bed with Kazunari still in it. Sharing an apartment with fussy Midorima Shintarō had more or less absolved Kazunari of his messiness, whether he liked it or not.

Takao had made himself quite at home on Ryōta's bed, Shintarō noted with a feeling of supreme annoyance. Shintarō wrinkled his nose in distaste. He didn’t much care for the sight of _his_ boyfriend strewn on another man's bed, no matter the circumstances. 

Eyeing the rumpled duvet, balled up at the corner of the unmade bed harshly, Shintarō looked like he wished he'd brought a hazamat suit or at the very least the disposable latex gloves they wore during labs given the number of "friends" Kise liked to bring home for the evening. He'd have to lure Kazunari into the shower when they got home and give him a thorough wash. Of course, knowing Takao, he'd probably mistaken it for foreplay.  

The hawkeye was lying on his side in a corner of Ryōta's large, unmade bed, hugging a throw pillow with one hand and with the other, casually flipping through a fashion magazine. He paused at the centerfold which featured a baby-oiled and nearly naked Kise, modeling men's leopard print, bikini underwear.

Shintarō wondered if Ryōta was also sporting a balled up sock in that picture. After all, Midorima Shintarō had shared many a locker room with Kise Ryōta and while Kise was certainly on the bountiful side -- the Miracles more or less lined up by height -- that was one  _bulbous_ leopard.

"Don't believe everything you see, Takao," Midorima, who was in a catty mood, said.

"Hey!" Kise protested. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"All I'm saying is, beware of false advertising," Midorima quipped.

"What do you know about it, anyway?" Ryōta howled. 

"Don't you have some washing up to do?" Midorima said. That shut Ryōta up momentarily and the blond went into the ensuite to take what Midorima hoped was a quick and at the same time, very thorough shower. 

By the time Ryōta was finished, Midorima had meandered into Ryōta's walk-in-closet. "You have more shoes than there are days in a year," Shintarō said snarkily because he was in a foul mood and he didn't even want to go out in the first place, and he'd been interrupted to come here and Kise wasn't even ready. Never mind that Midorima too had a closet full of horsebit Italian driving loafers. 

"How can one person accumulate this much clothing?" he asked, deciding this was as far as he wanted to go into this room of ill repute.  

"It's one of the many perks of the job," Ryōta explained as he toweled off. Because Kise was not enrolled in uni -- having bombed his college entrance exams royally -- he had a lot of time on his hands. So much time, he was hitting up his agent for more modeling work. He'd been filling up his days (and his closet) doing photoshoots and well, sometimes they let him take the clothes home with him. 

"Balled-up sock or codpiece?" Midorima asked smugly, referring back to Ryōta's leopard-print photoshoot. 

"Midorimacchi!" a naked Ryōta howled in indignation. "I'll have you know it's very cold in here," he said as he wrapped the damp towel around his waist. "And anyway, none of the women I've dated have ever complained." 

"Right, _women_ ," Midorima said pointedly.

“What's with the pilot's uniform?” Shintarō regretted the question as soon as it left his mouth. He could only imagine what sordid bedroom hijinks Kise had engaged in wearing that official-looking uniform. Of course, Shintarō had no high moral ground to stand on. There was, after all, a freshly laundered cheerleading uniform in Shintarō’s own closet. But that didn't stop Shintarō, who lacked self-awareness when it suited him, from passing judgment on Ryōta. 

"I'm doing a modeling gig for one of the airlines next week," Ryōta explained. "They're going to be unveiling new uniforms for the whole fleet," he said excitedly. "I've been assigned the captain's uniform. I hope they let me keep it afterwards so I can --"  
  
“-- That's enough,” Shintarō interrupted. He could hear Takao's giggles from the other side of the room.  
  
Shin-chan was feeling grumpy. Or rather, Shin-chan was feeling grumpier than normal. Midorima was bent out of shape because they had taken a cab to Kise's apartment only to find out that Kise wasn't ready yet. And not only was Kise not ready, he hadn't even gotten dressed. And to top it all off there had been that unfortunate run-in with that stranger who Takao apparently knew given that Ryōta had introduced him as someone Takao would remember. 

While Kise blow dried his hair, Shintarō went back into the bedroom to stand near the bed. Unlike Kazunari, he refused to sit on it. Shintarō could think of any number of things he'd rather be doing than waiting for Kise to make himself decent. A great many of those things involved Kazunari writhing naked beneath him. In fact, one of those things had been cut short when they'd rushed over thinking they were late in the first place. Shintarō cleared his throat, adjusting his pants discreetly. He stayed put with his socked feet glued to the carpet, as if standing like a statue would cause Kise to suddenly grow a conscience and hurry the fuck up.

He noticed a hardcover book simply titled "Cookbook," nestled between alphabetized, glossy high fashion magazines on the bookshelf built into Kise's headboard. Shintarō knew from experience there wasn't a single book without pictures in the entirety of Kise's apartment. The book had caused Midorima to raise a curious eyebrow because he didn't know Kise liked to eat, let alone cook. Seeing as they were going to be there for a while, Shintarō decided to inquire about it when Kise came back into the bedroom.

"When did you start cooking," he asked, wondering if Murasakibara had taken pity on their useless friend.   
  
"Huh?" Ryōta sounded as surprised as anyone. He'd sashayed back into the bedroom wearing the same leopard print underwear he'd worn in that centerfold as if to prove at point to Midorima. 

When Kise turned toward the bed to inspect the book in question, to Shintarō's horror, he learned it wasn't a bikini underwear Ryōta had been wearing in that photo spread, but rather a thong. There was also no evidence of a balled up sock. And while Shintarō had shared many a locker room with Kise Ryōta, his friend had certainly _grown_ since middle school. Then again so had Shintarō.  
  
"Ah, Midorimacchi," Kise said giggling nervously. "You misread the title. That second 'o' is actually a 'c'."  
  
Shintarō's eyes widened as he examined the spine more closely, _Cockbook_.  
  
"Of course, I did," he said dryly. And then gave Takao a meaningful look, _How long were they supposed to keep up the ridiculous charade that Kise was straight?_   

Kazunari just shrugged. He put down the fashion magazine and started thumbing through the suddenly much more interesting not-cookbook instead.

* * *

**AN** : Clearly another self-indulgent chapter. I'll get back to more plotty things eventually. In the meantime, please enjoy the gratuitous innuendo at poor Kise's expense. I'm very proud of this weekend. I have now officially updated all of my pending MidoTaka fics. Whew! 


	7. When Pigs Fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A careless comment from Kise causes Midorima to fret.

**Warning:** I don't want to spoil anything, but there is a teensy bit of a hold-up in this chapter. But It's a humorous hold-up. At least, I hope it comes across as funny. Still, I wanted to give you a warning in case anyone finds it triggery. 

* * *

To no one's surprise they made it to the planetarium well after their agreed-upon-in-advance movie, _A Detailed Exposition of the Universe and the Constellations_ , had already started to play.

The movie Midorima had agreed to see (the one Takao had assured him they were going to watch) was of course halfway over by the time they reached their destination. This may or may not have played a role in Ryōta dragging his feet in getting ready. In any event, Takao and Kise didn't seem too bummed about having to select a different movie.

Upon encountering this inconvenient, but entirely foreseeable circumstance, Takao and Kise readily agreed to watching something else. Midorima narrowed his pretty green eyes suspiciously.

The two of them settled surprisingly quick -- _too quick_ , almost as if they'd agreed upon it ahead of time -- on some action hero inanity that had lots of explosions and a plot so thin it was practically transparent.

The new movie the two twits had chosen was not to Shintarō's liking. But then again, few movies were. It was a travesty what qualified for modern-day cinema these days.

Despite its cinematic shortcomings which Midorima was all too eager to point out over sushi, Takao and Kise seemed to have enjoyed the movie, talking animatedly over each other about their favorite suspense sequences at a nearby eating establishment.

"Kise. If you push that rainbow roll one more time around your plate, I'm going to pick it up and shove it down your gullet." 

"Whaa! Midorimacchi's so mean," Ryōta cried. "I don't like it." He exclaimed. "Why'd you order it for me in the first place?"

"Because they did not have rolls of air, invisible salad and water soup on the menu," Midorima responded glibly.

The two of them continued bickering as they walked down the dark alley adjacent to the restaurant. Takao walked on ahead, unperturbed. Listening to Kise and Midorima bicker was as natural as breathing.

"No." Midorima insisted. 

"Why not?" Kise asked.  

"Because I'm tired, it's late and I want to go home." 

"Midorimacchi's so booooorrring," Ryōta proclaimed. 

And with that, it was like the oxygen had been sucked out of Midorima's lungs. He instantly stiffened. 

“Well at least, I’m not a, a —“ Midorima paused as if he was trying to consider whether to lob the insult or not. A few seconds later, he threw it anyway, “at least I’m not a tart!”

Ryōta gasped in indignation. As if his good name had never been so besmirched in the entirety of his short life. “Who do you think you’re calling a tart?” He demanded.

“Obviously, it’s you!” Midorima responded. Having already hurled the insult, he was not going to back down. Besides, he'd been mortally wounded when Ryōta had accused him of being boring. 

"How dare you!” Ryōta exclaimed.

“Well if the shoe fits!” Midorima said, pointing his finger accusingly at Kise. A few hours ago, they had very nearly caught Ryōta fucking some random stranger he’d met at a bar. Midorima had interrogated Takao about it when Ryōta had gone to the bathroom and Midorima had taken that as an opportunity to order the rainbow roll.

“That's not true, Midorimacchi and you know it.” Ryōta insisted “You know I don't eat sweets. “

 " _Idiot_. I'm not calling you _that_ kind of tart, I'm casting aspersions on your honor." 

“Oh is that all?” Ryōta chuckled. “I thought you were insulting me."

Midorima pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel a headache coming on. He was having a most dreadful evening. It could not possibly get worse. 

Suddenly, there was a man. With a mask. And a knife.

Takao gulped audibly. An oblivious Ryōta walked right into Kazunari followed shortly by Midorima. 

"Your money or your life!" the man demanded. 

"Is there a third option?" Ryōta inquired.

The stranger brandished the knife at Ryōta's pretty throat. A spooked Ryōta ran behind Midorima. "Midorimacchi help! I'm too beautiful to die!" he wailed.

"Shut up, idiot." Shintarō hissed at Ryōta through his teeth.

"What's this a tough guy?" their would-be assailant turned to Midorima. 

"I, I was talking to _him_ ," Midorima stammered, poking Ryōta in his bony ribs. Predictably, Ryōta started to whine. "Midorimacchi so meeean," he sobbed.

"Not now," Shintarō pleaded with his idiot friend. 

"Here you go," Takao said to their mugger as he dutifully handed over his wallet. 

The man greedily snatched Kazunari's wallet from Kazunari's shaky hands.

"Finally," the mugger said. "Someone with a survival instinct."  It was a plastic Old Codex wallet Kazunari's sister had bought for him at a concert.

While the man was distracted, Midorima grabbed Takao by the wrist and pushed him behind Ryōta. It was clear who Midorima wanted to be the designated survivor. 

The man's sinister sneer fell when he opened the cheap wallet. "What's this?" He asked. "A chewed up wad of gum and a used metro ticket?"

"You don't have to be so rude," Takao muttered under his breath. "I'm just a poor college student."

"At least you got good taste in music, kid." The man pocketed Kazunari's wallet, but not before he dropped it's worthless contents on the ground. 

Midorima's eyes widened in shock, but Takao just shrugged it off. Takao supposed once one was committed to robbing people, littering must've felt like no big deal in comparison.

"What about you Blondie?" the man turned his attention to Ryōta. "Where's your wallet?"

Ryōta brazenly laughed in the man's face. "I can't stuff a wallet in here," Ryōta exclaimed, referring to his tight, designer denim. "It would be a tragedy to interrupt the lines of these impeccable curves with a bulky wallet," he explained, shaking his money-maker.

Ryōta did hundreds of squats every night and twice on Sunday. He wanted to make sure the man knew he worked his ass-off at maintaining his great ass.

The mugger and Midorima rolled their eyes in unison. 

"How do you pay for things, then?" the man asked, sounding like he didn't believe Ryōta's story.

"Pish," Ryōta said, waving his hand dismissively. "Look at this face, I haven't paid for a drink in years." Never mind that Ryōta had yet to attain legal drinking age.

"What about food?"

"I hardly eat."

"Hair-dye?

Ryota howled in indignation. "I'll have you know I'm a _natural_ blonde!"

The man groaned, Ryōta was clearly wearing him thin. Midorima could almost commiserate. _Almost._

"Hair product, then," the man said. "I can see you've got plenty of _that_."

"I pay for it with my phone, of course," Ryōta chirped with misplaced pride.

"Alright," the man said impatiently. "Hand over your phone."

Ryota gasped in horror. "Pleeeeeease don't take my phone. My whole life is on that phone," Ryōta sobbed. " _Anything_ , but my phone."

"Anything?" the masked assailant asked. 

"Okay. Okay. You got me." Ryōta said. Clearly his bluff had been called. "At least let me backup my selfies onto the cloud."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," the mugger muttered. If Midorima didn't know any better, he'd say the mugger was praying for patience. And if it weren't for the whole, being held up thing, Midorima would feel bad for the guy. Midorima had been in the man's situation many, many times having known Kise since childhood. 

"Blondie, are you fucking stupid or something? Were you dropped as a kid?"

"Well, actually - - "Ryōta began to respond, but then the man lost his last thread of patience. 

"You see this," he said, holding up his knife. "It's not a toy. I'm a criminal, a bad guy. . . . backing up onto the cloud," he said mockingly. 

Ryōta reluctantly and tearfully handed over his mobile to that, that _monster_ without backing up his pictures. He'd better not find compromising pictures of himself on the internet.

"Now it's your turn, Glasses," he said to Midorima.

"Alligator skin," the man exclaimed, when Midorima handed over his wallet. "What are you forty?"

Midorima pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Clearly there was no accounting for taste. The mugging had been unfortunate, but he could do without the running commentary.

"All right!" the man happily exclaimed as he pulled out a fist full of neatly folded yens, finally hitting pay dirt. "I was beginning to question my life's choices, but this, this is quite the payoff. Thanks grandpa."

As the man greedily counted his ill-gotten gains, Shintarō huffed. "Don't spend it all in one place," he muttered.

"Shhhhhin-chan," Takao whisper-hissed. "Now's not the time to get sassy."

"I don't want to hear that coming from you," Midorima retorted.

"Hey!" The man exclaimed. "You two love birds knock it off! This is a hold up." The assailant said. "You kids need to start taking this seriously."

The man made the three of them face the brick wall in the alley and count to a thousand. 

"599," Midorima dutifully stated. 

"I think the guy's gone now, Shin-chan. You can stop counting." 

"600. You don't know that for sure, Takao. 601" 

"Yeah, I do." They did not call him the hawkeye for nothing.

###

They walked to the nearest kōban. It may have taken them a while to get there. 

"Are you _sure_  you know where we're going?" Midorima asked Ryōta for the umpteenth time. Shintarō could've sworn they'd passed the same Family Mart _three_ times. He was already jittery about being in this neighborhood. 

" _Pish_ , Midorimacchi. You're such a worry wart," Ryota replied cheerfully. "I know a shortcut."

"Stop trying to make 'pish' a thing, Kise. It's not gonna happen. What does that even mean, anyway?"

The three of them filled out a police report. Though the man  _was_ wearing a mask so the details were sparse. 

"And then," Ryōta wuffed. "He took my phone without letting me back up my photos. I had _good_ selfies on there. I mean all of my photos are flawless. But you can never have too many good photos. You know?" 

"Hold up. The man stole your phone? Why didn't you just say so in the first place!" 

"Officer," Ryōta wailed dramatically, "Puh-leeze don't use the word 'hold up.' It's too soon." 

The officer let his head fall on the table. A few times. Until another officer intervened.

"Please excuse Officer Gotō. He's had a long shift." This co-worker, Officer Hazama, continued the interview. "What my partner is getting at, is that we can find the guy who did this by tracking your phone."

###

It was awfully nice of Officer Gotō and Officer Hazama to give them a ride home. He dropped Kise off first. For obvious reasons. Because he was annoying the shit out of everyone in the car.  _And then Midorimaachi called me a tart. But I thought he meant a fruit tart. Did you know there's more than one kind of tart, Officer Gotō? Hey. Your eye keeps twitching. You should really see someone about that._

Midorima had never ridden in the backseat of a police car. He'd never written in the front seat of one either. It wasn't exactly a bucket list item. 

Takao could see as the squad car approached their apartment building that the lights were indeed still on in their apartment. He gave Midorima a teasing smirk which Shintarō dutifully ignored by pretending to busy himself with his newly re-acquired alligator skin wallet. Shintarō also used the act of thanking the officers as an excuse for ignoring Kazunari's non-verbal I told you so about the lights.

###

“Takao.” Midorima said. When the lights were off. And he'd gathered up all his courage. 

“Hmm?”

The tsundere awkwardly pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. At least he tried to, until he realized he wasn't wearing them, because he was in bed and it was dark. “. . . I’m only asking you this because we had a near death experience.”

“Hardly, Shin-chan. I doubt that guy could’ve done any real damage. It was three-to-one. At best he could’ve slashed one of us.”

“Even so,” Midorima continued because he’d muscled up the courage and he didn’t know how long this bout of bravery would last. “Do you think I’m boring?”

“Pfft!” Takao laughed in Midorima’s direction.

“Answer me!” Shintaro yelled.

“It’s a ridiculous question!” Takao exclaimed.

“Is it ridiculous because it’s so obvious?” Midorima fretted with worry.

“Well, yeah,” Takao said.

Midorima could feel his heart beating frantically in his ears. Deep down inside, he knew it was the truth. Even so, it still hurt to hear his fears confirmed. “. . . Because I’m so dreadfully boring.”

“Eh?” Takao sounded genuinely surprised. “No. Shin-chan. Quite the opposite. You’re the most fascinating person I know.”

“Now you're just teasing me.” That didn't sound right to Midorima's ears. Midorima had heard himself described as many things. Ornery. Unpleasant. Grumpy.

"I'm not teasing you, Shin-chan," Takao insisted, "I'm dead serious."

It grew quiet between them. Several moments passed in complete silence. "I think about you all the time,” Takao divulged.

“You do?”

“Of course, Shin-chan. If I thought you were boring, you wouldn't occupy so much of my headspace. You know?”

Midorima felt Takao shift towards Midorima's side of the bed. "Why do you ask, Shin-chan?" 

"No reason," Midorima stated, though he knew there wasn't a chance in hell Kazunari would drop it.

"Aww. Is Shin-chan feeling a little insecure about Kazu-chan's deep and abiding love for Shin-chan? Does Shin-chan need a little reassurance from Kazu-chan?"

Midorima groaned. “Forget I asked.”

Still. There was the tiniest of smiles on Midorima’s lips at having heard Takao’s pronouncement. And it didn't hurt that Takao insisted on physically reassuring his boyfriend. 

* * *

 **AN1** : I once watched a movie on the constellations over Hokkaido at this [planetarium](https://www.konicaminolta.com/planetarium/theaters/tenku/index.html) where the "screen" is domed and the seats recline all the way back. The narrator was none other than Daisuke Ono who is Shin-chan's seiyū. I was in _heaven_. Have I mentioned I would gladly pay for this man to read the tax code to me? It was pretty cool. But also, I was very jet lagged and it made me sleepy. Double also, it was in Japanese so I didn't understand any of it. 

 **AN2** : Hooray! Another update! ヽ(゜∇゜)ノ The plot's still missing (¤﹏¤) Also, yes there's a reference to Samurai Flamenco. If you haven't seen the anime, WATCH IT!!!! Then talk to me about it on [tumblr](http://jmetmisc.tumblr.com/). 


	8. Well Don't Be so Relieved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takao gets Shin-chan to take a break from studying, sort of.

**Warnings** \- There is a minor OC death, but I don't think anyone will find it upsetting. I purposely only wrote _about_ the OC, not the OC because I didn't want anyone to get attached to the OC.  Also M for pound town which you can safely assume happens just about every chapter in this fic. I don't know what's going on with these two, but I guess moving in together is causing them to hump like bunnies on a hot spring day.  ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

* * *

Takao Kazunari was an annoyance and a nuisance. Midorima Shintarō did not know why he asked the bothersome fool to move in with him in the first place. And he most certainly didn't miss the noisy gadfly when they were apart.  
  
"Shin-chan, at least _try_ to move once in a while. You're going to get bedsores," Takao teased as he walked past Midorima in the living room. In fact, the tsundere hadn’t left the spot where Takao had left him that morning when Takao was separating the colors from the whites. 

Midorima was sitting on their red velvet couch reading a meticulously tabbed anatomy book. This was what passed for "light" reading as far as the tsundere was concerned. He did not have any major exams coming up on the horizon. Midorima was studying the intricate, colorful diagrams of the human hand in preparation for a dissection lab he had later that week. In Midorima's estimation, there was no such thing as being _too_ prepared. Takao had other notions. Takao felt that it was his duty, his _job_ even, to ensure that his boyfriend took proper study breaks. It was Takao's philosophy that enjoying life and living it to the fullest was just as important as preparing for it.

"Don't be ridiculous," Midorima responded as he turned the page.

Kazunari was carrying a bottle of laundry detergent they kept under the sink. Their apartment had a traditional layout in the sense that the washing machine was located in the guest bathroom. Ostensibly, the washer also doubled as a dryer, but it was old and loud and struggled for hours to dry even a single bedsheet and most of the time it was easier just to hang the larger pieces out on a drying rack in the balcony and reserve the dryer function for just socks and underwear. Occasionally, Kazunari would get fed up with the whole process and take a large canvas bag of their dirty clothes and a textbook to the nearest coin laundry and perch there for a few hours. Bunkyō was a student's paradise and there was no shortage of college kids out on similar excursions especially on Sundays. 

Midorima did not have time to spare and his solution to the banality of soiled linens was to send everything off to the dry cleaners and pray no one questioned the mystery stains on the gusset of his pants or bring it home to his mother where somehow or other it would get cleaned, folded and eventually make its way back to him. Of course, that would require actually having to _see_ his mother so, for obvious reasons, it was the option of last resort. 

"Shin-chan," Takao said all singsongy and coy as he sidled up next to his boyfriend, insisting on occupying the same seat cushion, never mind that the couch itself was almost long enough to accommodate Shintarō if he chose to lay down on it, not that Shintarō would misuse living room furniture pieces in such an improper manner. 

“What do you want?” Shintarō asked, not bothering to look up as he examined the metacapral layer of the clear-file illustrations, followed by the muscle layer. 

"It's time for your break." The hawkeye smiled cheekily. “And I need a prostate exam,” he declared.

Shintarō rolled his pretty green eyes. _Oh this again_ , he lamented. Takao had been asking for “prostate exams” since before Midorima had been accepted to med school.

"Don't be ridiculous. It's recommended for men in their fifties. You're not even twenty. Besides, it's very clinical. It would be over in a minute. I don't think you'd like it." Shintarō omitted the fact that he was intimately familiar with Kazunari's prostate gland, he knew the exact location, it's exact dimensions and that it was not in the slightest bit abnormal or enlarged. “What you _need_ is your head examined,” he said dryly.

Takao grinned widely at him. “Okay, that'll work too,” he said agreeably and got up. Shintarō was surprised, if somewhat disappointed that he'd gotten rid of Takao so easily. That is, until Takao placed his bare feet in the space between Midorima's legs. Takao was wearing Midorima's university sweatshirt and a pair of old gym shorts from his days at Shūtoku. Takao pinned the hem of the sweatshirt under his chin and proceeded to drop his shorts. He was not wearing anything underneath. 

"Laundry day,” Kazunari reminded his boyfriend in response to Midorima's frozen gaze. “Ready to get my head examined when you are, Shin-chan.”

It took a moment for Shintarō’s brain to register what had just happened. It took Shintarō even longer to peel his eyes from Takao’s _not_ -shorts, which was suddenly standing at attention and boldly staring back at him, daring Midorima to touch. Shintarō swallowed hard as saliva began to pool inside his mouth in anticipation. Shintarō stubbornly balled his fists into the cushions instead. 

"I meant your _other_ head, idiot,” he said with a disapproving glare once he’d finally recovered some of his senses.

At least he’d _tried_ to make it look disapproving, though it could more accurately be described as appreciative, interested, and suddenly hungry. Kazunari was so close Midorima could almost taste him.

Midorima put his anatomy book on the side table and that was enough of an invitation for Kazunari to climb onto his lap. Well, he _could_ use a distraction, Shintarō supposed. 

Takao grinned triumphantly. He knew he’d get exactly what he wanted. He plucked Midorima's glasses from the bridge of his nose -- took a moment to admire Midorima's beautiful unadorned face -- before folding the spectacles and placing them beside the book on the table.  

"Will you stop smiling you idiot," Shintarō huffed. "I'm _trying_ to kiss you."

 _Damn Kazunari and his bewitching ways_.

Kazunari's self-satisfied grin couldn't possibly be wider. He leaned back on the seat cushions, spreading his knees apart to make room for Shintarō who was already leaving a trail of whisper-soft kisses on his quaking inner thighs. Midorima liked to start off slow, but Kazunari knew it wouldn't last. Midorima's grip on his leg was already tightening. "I'm going to get wrecked, aren't I?" 

"Should I stop?" Shintarō threatened, he too could be evil.

"Don't you dare," Kazunari retorted. 

###

They were in what colloquially would be referred to as the throes of passion. Shintarō was what his contemporaries would describe as balls deep into his boyfriend when Midorima's phone rang. Any other ringtone and Shintarō would've ignored it and let it go to voicemail. But Takao, as was his wont, liked to mess with every aspect of Midorima's life. And that included Midorima's phone.

The hawkeye had assigned ringtones to the privileged few contacts on Midorima's phonebook. It was close to Halloween and Takao had reserved the spookiest, most ghoulish ringtone for Shintarō's father. 

Shintarō's father, who seldom rang and often didn't even call his son on his birthday. 

To Takao's horror, Shintarō pulled back. He reached over Kazunari to his phone on the side table. He answered it on the second ring, pulling out completely. He put his glasses on and got half dressed with his free hand.

Takao who'd been on his elbows and knees, the side of his face bearing all the markings of having been pressed against the seat cushions, sat up like a startled meerkat. He didn't care that he was bare assed and well-lubed and probably making a mess of the upholstery beneath him. He could only focus on one thing right now and that was Midorima's face. 

Midorima scrunched up said face in distaste, but didn't tell Kazunari to get up.

Takao swallowed hard. He knew this was bad, this was _very_ , _very_ bad. Takao felt a cold chill run down his spine. Midorima's parents were self-absorbed, but they weren't stupid. He knew it was only a matter of time, before they were discovered.  _Forget bad, this was fucking catastrophic_ , Takao thought. Midorima's father never called him. _Like, never ever_. Not even on holidays and shit.

Intuitively, Kazunari knew he was not having a heart attack. He was young and healthy and had no family history of one, but that didn't stop him from going into what felt like tachycardia arrhythmia at the very thought of Midorima's parents finally piecing it together. 

 _Shit_. Takao let him self flop down on the couch cushions, none too softly.

In theory, Kazunari should've been able to hear Midorima's side of the conversation, but Takao could hardly hear what his boyfriend was saying. All Kazunari could here was his own heart pounding frantically and loudly in his ears. Part of him wanted it to be even louder. He wanted to never be able to hear what Shintarō was saying.

Even if he couldn't make out the words, Midroima's face looked ashen.

When Midorima hung up the phone, Takao wanted to run out of the apartment screaming, birthday suit and all. 

This was it. Kazunari could feel it. This was the conversation he'd been dreading all this time.

Midorima shook his shoulders. "Takao. Stop breathing so fast you're going to hyperventilate."

"This is the best I can do under the circumstances, Shin-chan." 

"Look. I don't know how to say this to you. I've never broken news like this to anyone. But . . ."

 Takao was feeling the edges of his vision clouding black, he was going to pass out. He could feel it.

"Takao," Midorima was shaking his shoulders again, but this time he sounded very far away and growing farther.  _What?_  Takao tried to speak, but by then all five of Takao’s senses were too far gone. And there was nothing he could do to turn back now.

Takao woke up to the strong scent of ammonia and concerned green eyes staring at him. He was wrapped in the afghan they kept on the headrest of the couch.

Midorima was kneeling down beside him, tapping the dark-haired boy's cheeks none too lightly and holding a small satchel up to Kazunari's nose. Takao pushed his boyfriend's hand out of the way. Trust a medical student to keep smelling salts handy.

"I know it comes as a shock, but it was to be expected. She was almost a hundred," Midorima said soothingly, rubbing the side of his now conscious boyfriend's cheek in an unguarded moment of dere. "I didn't think you were that fond of her, Kazu."

"Who?" Takao asked because he had no idea what Midorima was going on about. 

"My great aunt." Shintarō eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "That's what my father had called about. She passed away this afternoon." 

Takao let go of the breath he'd been holding. It took a moment for Takao to piece together the last thing he'd heard before he'd passed out. Relief bubbled up in his body and it was so forceful he started to laugh. Kazunari's unexpected laughter pierced through Midorima's empathetic bubble.

"Oh Thank Heaven," Takao exclaimed. Midorima's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. Kazunari sounded relieved, inappropriately giddy. "That's all it is?" 

"What's all it is?" Midorima demanded. 

"That's why your father called you? Your great aunt died?" 

"Well, don't sound to relieved," Midorima scolded. "I had a death in the family. That's as bad as news gets." 

"I'm sorry, Shin-chan. I don't mean to sound insensitive." Kazunari realized his response was being misinterpreted. "I'm just so relieved." 

"Well don't be so relieved, you idiot." He flicked the side of his boyfriend's head. "It's disrespectful."

* * *

 **AN** : Finally we have some plot. Not a whole lot of plot, but something. Next chapter is the funeral. Takao gets to mingle with Midorima's family and it'll go as well as can be expected for our boys. Also RIP red velvet couch, _again_. 


	9. No Weddings and a Funeral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takao tries to put the "fun" in funeral.

Takao Kazunari walked through the front door of his apartment and carelessly discarded the old, comfy sneakers he'd worn to class that day in the genkan, leaving them behind in a haphazard configuration on the floor only to double back moments later to stuff them into the shoe cubby where they belonged. Takao knew Shin-chan would yell at him if he encountered Takao's shoes lying about. 

Takao smiled coyly as his brain caught up to his actions. _Midorima Shintarō domesticator of wild beasts_ , he thought upon reflection.

Takao Kazunari was officially housebroken.Shin-chan had gotten Takao to put his shoes away properly after mere months of cohabitation, something Takao's mother had tried and failed to instill in her unruly children time and time again. Then again, Shin-chan had a wide array of _rewards_ at his disposal to tempt Takao into compliance that were not available to Takao's mother.

The whole carrot-and-stick method of behavioral modification took on a whole new meaning. It was much more enticing when it was administered by his boyfriend. 

"I'm home!" Kazunari announced loudly when he walked into the kitchen.

"Welcome back," Shintarō responded and Takao practically jumped out of his skin in surprise.

Takao knew Shin-chan had had to miss his lab today and, for once, would beat him home. Only a literal death in the family would cause studious to a fault Midorima to miss a class.

What Kazunari hadn't expected was to be greeted by the sight of his boyfriend with his hair gelled back, impeccably dressed in a black bespoke suit. Midorima, adhering to tradition, was wearing a black tie.

Shintarō was sipping coffee from a mug. "It's going to be a long night," he told Takao. "Want some?" He offered, extending the mug out to him.

Kazunari swallowed thickly. It was a shame they had to leave their apartment at all this evening. Takao wanted nothing more than to divest Midorima of his all too perfectly fitting suit, tousle his hair until it was all out of place, and pull him down onto the red velvet couch in the living room.  

Midorima, oblivious as ever to Kazunari's appreciative gaze, barked orders at him. " _Well_? What are you waiting for?" he asked, placing the now empty mug in the sink. "Don't just stand there, frozen in place like some dolt deer caught in the headlights. Go shower, get dressed. We're going to be late."

Takao took the world's quickest shower and got his clothes together.

Unlike Midorima, Takao did not own a suit. Takao had to borrow the ill-fitting one he was wearing from his old man.

It wasn't black. It was a muddy brown, but it was the darkest suit he could get his hands on. He'd called his mother yesterday and she'd ironed it for him that morning before heading to work. She'd left it hanging in a garment bag in the entryway of her home for Kazunari to swoop in and pick it up. 

As expected, it was too big on him. Like his dad, it was paunchy around the middle. Kazunari had remedied the problem somewhat by tightening the notches on the belt that held up his pants, but there was no helping the jacket.

The white button-down shirt was all his own. He'd purchased it at the konbini down the street from the apartment. It was the reason he'd been late.

The well-stocked store kept a row of indistinguishable white shirts, cotton undershirts and plaid boxers, alongside travel-sized toiletry essentials meant for the unfortunate salary men who'd missed the last train home and would have to spend the night in a shabby capsule hotel or worse, under their desk. Takao wasn't sure what he wanted to do with his life, but he knew it wasn't _that_.  

At least the black silk tie he was sporting was designer. It was elegant, even if somewhat conventional. It looked like it would be more at home hanging from the neck of a well-to-do middle-aged lawyer or hedge fund manager.

He'd snagged it from Shin-chan's closet. Shintarō had tied it into a nice Windsor knot for him.

 _"_ Quit babying me, Shin-chan." Takao complained when Midorima swooped in to do it for him, "I know how to tie a tie."  

"Understood." Shintarō blushed, turning his head to the side and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "But I still wanted to do it for you." 

 _Fuck,_ a flushed faced Takao would really like it if his boyfriend would stop saying cute shit like that to him. First of all, no one would believe him. Second of all, Takao's heart might just burst out of his chest. And then Shin-chan would have to attend another funeral. 

 ###

The smell of incense was overpowering when they arrived at Midorima's parents' home. They were greeted at the door by a young relative Takao had never seen before, but was unmistakably a member of the clan. The boy's hair was mossy, his spectacles thick, his eyelashes long and plentiful. His face looked about twelve, but he was tall and lanky for his age. The Midorima genes ran strong and their young usher met every marker.

The boy escorted them to a room in a seldom used wing of the large house. Takao had never been to this room before even though he'd been to this part of the house in high school in search of a secluded corner where he could steal kisses from a then bashful, but willing Shintarō, away from Midorima's mother or the prying eyes of the household staff.

Takao had shamelessly been a near constant fixture in this home when Shintarō still lived there. 

The generously-sized tatami room was crowded with family members, but it had very little furniture save for the large, ornate butsudan that covered much of the back wall. The room's sole useful purpose appeared to be to house the family altar. In keeping with tradition and in light of the somber occasion, the heavy, ornate doors of the butsudan were closed shut to keep out impure spirits.  

Shintarō and his family were not ardently religious so to speak. It was more like they were supremely superstitious and steeped in tradition. They belonged to a temple _and_ a shrine just to cover all their bases. And made several sizable donations a year to both. Being a family of deep pockets, they had the means to call upon a priest or monk to perform all sorts of rites even the obscure ones. 

It was easy to tell the "true" Midorimas -- the ones that had been born into the family -- from the ones who had married into it. Shin-chan came from particularly strong stock. As far as Takao could tell, the Midorima children all had the same genetic traits. They looked like his boyfriend and his boyfriend's father and his boyfriend's little sister. The Midorima spouses were the ones who had dark hair like him and Sazuna. They were the ones who didn't have the green hair, the great height, or the horrible vision. In fact, the last time Takao had seen this many pairs of glasses in one room was when he'd been tasked with picking up Shin-chan’s glasses at the optometrist.

Takao spotted Sazuna at the center of the room. Shintarō's mother stood out in a sea of dark suits. She looked exquisitely put together in an elegant, black funeral kimono. Her hair, glossy and dark, was carefully arranged, pulled away from her beautiful face and pinned back by an elegant, understated comb. She was wearing the strand of South Sea pearls her husband had gifted her around her long, elegant neck.

She was flanked to her left by her consort, Shintarō's dashing, older-looking doppelgänger as they greeted mourners. They were a handsome couple. The two of them together painted a striking picture. If only Takao had nicer things to say about them. 

They walked up to Shintarō's parents and briefly greeted them. But there was a throng of mourners and soon Takao and Shintarō parted ways.

Several of Shin-chan's university professors were in attendance. They didn't know the deceased, but they were close friends and colleagues of Shintarō's father and were there to pay their respects. Shin-chan was swooped up by his father and initiated into that coterie. 

There were clusters of mourners congregated around the large room and Takao didn't quite know where he fit in.

"It's just so tragic," Sazuna said to him, dabbing the corners of her eyes. "The unfairness of it all." 

Takao was surprised to see Midorima's mother so emotional. He'd gotten the impression over the years that she hadn't particularly cared for the woman in the coffin. But perhaps the shock of death had made Sazuna see Obaasan in a whole new light. People have kind things to say about even dictators in death. 

"I'm so sorry for your loss," he ventured.

Sazuna laughed dryly. " _Heavens no_. Don't be. The old biddy hated me. I was never good enough for her Shinzo-chan," she said in a mocking tone. Sazuna looked liked she'd bit into a lemon. "She didn't even have the decency to _die_ in her own bed. She had to come over here and do it in our home. But not without making the past few months an absolute nightmare for me." Sazuna was really getting worked up about this. "Even in death she was supremely inconsiderate. I bet she knew she was dying and she did this on purpose." 

Takao supposed it was only natural. He'd want to be near his family if he knew he was passing on. 

And then Sazuna confided in him, the true source of her grief. "No one in this family thinks I'm good enough." Sazuna gave the side eye to a trio of verdant-haired older women sitting closely together on the other side of the room. Although the look was meant to be accusatory, Sazuna reminded Takao of a wallflower longing to be at the popular kids' table. Of course, the absurdity of Sazuna being something so meek as a wallflower made Takao chuckle softly.

"Sorry," he said, clearing his throat when she raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at him.

"I was a former _Miss Kyoto_ , for crying out loud," she said with all the import and gravitas of having earned a Nobel Prize. "My father was on the city council. There's a torii at the shrine with my family's name on it. They don't just give those away to anyone, you know?"

Takao nodded in agreement. She was right. They didn't just _hand out_ toriis like mochi on New Year's. You had to buy them, for millions of yen, and consequently only the wealthiest, most prominent families in Kyoto had toriis dedicated to them.

Sazuna wasn't the most reliable narrator, Takao had come to learn over the years. There was the time she'd told Shintarō his nanny had gone on vacation when in fact she'd gone home to care for an ailing relative. But the arctic gaze the trio of women cast Shinzo's wife when nothing but the hawkeye could've seen them, supported Sazuna's story somewhat.

He recognized the women gathered at the opposite end of the room. They were tall, slender, bespectacled beauties. Their seemingly long, dark green hair pulled into elegant French twists. They were bejeweled and decked in fancy kimonos, but in an understated way that oozed affluence, without being gaudy. He'd met them before, seen them at functions. They were Shinzo's older sisters, triplets.

There was a fourteen year gap between Shinzo and his sisters. Their then middle-aged parents had not intended on having a fourth child. The pregnancy was unexpected and riddled with complications. Shinzo's mother experienced an arduous childbirth and a difficult postpartum recovery. She passed away before Shinzo's first birthday. 

The girls doted on their baby brother, comporting themselves more like surrogate mothers than siblings. But they were away most of the year in finishing school. Shinzo's newly widowed father was at his wit's end when Obaasan moved in to take care of her bereaved younger brother and his young infant son.   

Obaasan never married by choice. Tired and weary following a long steady stream of ill-intentioned suitors who were more interested in her considerable fortune, she remained a spinster well into her fifties. She lived alone until she readily took up the mantle of surrogate mother in her brother's household.

The girls were practically raised when Obaasan moved in. But she doted on her nephew, the youngest and only boy. In Shinzo, Obaasan found a new purpose in life. He offered her an opportunity she'd thought had passed her by. Motherhood was an experience she'd assumed was fulfilling for other women, but not something she'd ever thought she could claim for her own. She threw herself into this unexpected role with zeal and vigor, lavished the poor, hapless boy with love and attention as if he were her own. 

Shinzo thrived under Obaasan's care. She'd taught him to read from a young age, oversaw his studies and approved of only the very best tutors. He was incredibly bright even by his family's standards. When Shinzo showed aptitude for music, Obaasan arranged for lessons at the conservatory. When he expressed an interest in medicine, Obaasan commandeered the hospital charity ball, opening her impressive list of social contacts to ensure the boy was exposed to the most touted practitioners in the field. A prodigious pupil from the very beginning, Obaasan ensured Shinzo's talents did not go to waste. 

Takao knew all this because Shin-chan had told him.

There was a time, when they were first getting to know each other, that Shintarō tried his darnedest to keep Takao from meeting his family. Takao had assumed that it was because Shin-chan deemed Takao not worthy of meeting his cultured and discerning parents. But it turned out Takao had been wrong. Shintarō had not been embarrassed of him, he'd been embarrassed of _them --_ an unfaithful father and a scheming, self-centered mother prone to histrionics. 

Shintarō had tried to hide all of his parents' shortcomings from Takao mainly by trying and failing to keep the two groups apart. But of course it was impossible to keep things like that hidden for long. Shin-chan's insistence that Takao could not set foot inside his house on certain days, just made Takao curiouser and curiouser to find out what Midorima was hiding. Takao was persistent to a fault and eventually Shintarō just gave up.

It was hard for Midorima to explain to his shocked school mate why his mother had just poured her chilled glass of Chardonnay over his father's head when he walked in unannounced at dinner on a Tuesday night. After that, Midorima started confiding in Takao. Once that tawdry cat was out of the bag, it just came out and out and out. Not all out once, in dribs and drabs all of the family's dirty linens came to light. 

Takao suspected Obaasan was the reason Shinzo found fault in lesser mortals. No woman was going to make Shinzo feel as important as Obaasan had. He was the center of her universe and in return, she'd _spoiled_ him. She'd spoiled him for every woman that came after her. Obaasan had made Shinzo feel safe and special in a way no one else could. He'd placed this particular woman on a pedestal and everyone else paled in comparison. 

It wasn't a sexual thing. _Goodness no_. Shin-chan's family was fucked up but not in _that_ way. Things were broken enough already without needing to add an Oedipal component to the thick mix. It was an inability to form attachments and find emotional fulfillment in other women. 

It didn't help matters that Obaasan disapproved of Shin-chan's mother. This part of the story Takao had gotten from Sazuna who on occasion would loosen her lips when it suited her needs and fit her narratives. Sazuna was nothing if not calculating.

The official family story was that Shintarō had been a premie — an unusually large and healthy premie. But Obaasan (who was now dead) wasn’t born yesterday. Till her dying breath she maintained that Sazuna had used her womanly wiles to trick Shinzo into marrying her. Obaasan deeply disapproved of Sazuna, found her unworthy of marrying into the family, an ill-suited companion for the precious boy she’d raised. Obaasan had been right about the pair of them being a poor match for each other, but for different reasons.

Given her own experiences with underhanded suitors, Obaasan was naturally suspicious of fortune seekers. But Sazuna was wealthy in her own right -- the only child of a wildly successful textile merchant in Kyoto. Nonetheless, this did not assuage Obaasan's premonitions. Obaasan was not above a bit of snobbery. Sazuna was _merchant_ class wealthy and, in Obassan’s opinion, unworthy of being added into the registry of the proud and old-monied Midorima family.

Of course, the question of whether Sazuna should be permitted to join the family was moved along expeditiously by a sudden marriage. This caused a temporary rift between Obaasan and Shinzo. It was short-lived, however. The two made amends quickly, the birth of a baby boy who looked exactly the way Shinzo had looked when Obaasan had taken a motherless babe into her arms -- had a way of smoothing things over rather nicely.

However, Obaasan's access to the new baby was not unfettered. Shintarō, unlike Shinzo, had a mother -- a young, inexperienced mother who suddenly found herself with a lot of leverage in a family who'd been reluctant to accept her. Obaasan and Sazuna were often at loggerheads. Sazuna, not trusting her own judgment and not wishing to have her pseudo mother-in-law permanently ensconced in her home, relied heavily on nannies to care for her son. Obaasan viewed that as a direct affront to Obaasan's abilities. 

Eventually Obaasan moved out. She arranged to visit distant relatives further afield and when her planned three-week sojourn was up, she did not return. Shinzo never forgave Sazuna for that and in a way he was still punishing her for it. 

The woman whose coffin was at the center of the room, surrounded by elaborate floral arrangements had been the closest thing to a mother Shinzo had known. She had been his last living parent.

Shinzo's father passed on when Shinzo was already a father in his own right. Shin-chan was three at the time. He had no memory of his paternal grandfather who evidently had been quite fond of his only grandchild.

"How did you know Obaasan, exactly?" asked a middle-aged man who -- after a bit of friendly chitchat -- Takao had learned was Shinzo's second cousin. Understandably, the man was trying to figure out how a college student like Takao had been acquainted with a wealthy, recently deceased nonagenarian.  

Takao had heard of people crashing wakes. It was funny when it was the kooky plot of an on-demand movie, but creepy when it made the evening news. Takao wanted to assure the man that this wasn't one of those creepy situations. "I'm Shin-" Takao corrected himself quickly, recognizing that that overly friendly nickname would probably leave the man with the wrong impression. "I'm Shintarō-san's college roommate," he said more formally.  

"His _roommate_?" the man echoed, sounding surprised, because who the _hell_ brought their college roommate ( _freshman year_ , no less) to the wake of what was for all intents and purposes the closest thing Shintarō had to a grandmother!

"We're _very_ close." Takao blurted out without thinking. He'd been trying to allay any concerns the man might have that Takao was an interloper at an intimate family event. But Takao couldn't flat out confess to the man that he and Shintarō were _dating_. "But we're not _too_ close." Takao added, painfully aware that he sounded like an idiot. "We're just the right amount of close. We're _appropriately_ close." 

At this point, Takao wished he'd told the man he worked for the catering company and offered to freshen up his drink. But it was too late for that. 

"We went to high school together." Kazunari continued digging his own grave. "Played on the basketball team." 

"No kidding?" This time, the man sounded impressed. "I didn't know Shinzo's kid played sports."

It never failed to surprise Takao how little Shin-chan's relatives knew about him. Shin-chan didn't just _play_ basketball, he'd been his team's ace. He was the best shooting guard his school had ever seen. They'd retired his jersey. Takao didn't relay any of this to the man. He wasn't worthy of knowing the Shintarō he knew. In any event, Takao had flapped his gums too much as it was already. 

"Yes, well." He said, trying to extricate himself from this awkward conversation. "I think I'll get some punch." 

For lack of anything better to do, Takao decided to follow through with his statement and go get some punch.

The event was well-catered. There was a veritable smorgasbord laid out in the next room. Absolutely everything Takao put in his mouth was scrumptious. And that was just at the different food stations. There were also hors d'oeuvres being passed around on silver trays by waitstaff in perfectly starched white gloves. 

Despite his efforts to distract himself by stuffing his face, Takao couldn't shake off this koi-fish-out-of-water feeling. He was usually _good_  at social situations. He could mingle and socialize with the best of them. It was usually Shin-chan who had trouble coming out of his shell.

Takao tried to give himself a little pep talk. It was perfectly normal to support a romantic partner when they'd had a death in the family. Takao knew _why_ he was here. Shin-chan had asked him to be and that was all the justification he needed. _So what_ if some of Shin-chan's relatives may have been perplexed as to why Shintarō chose to bring his college roommate to his great aunt's wake. These were Shin-chan's more distant relatives, the ones Takao would only see on rare occasions and had last seen at their high school graduation. Midorima's parents and his little sister did not seem surprised to see Takao here. They were used to Takao being more or less a fixture, even if they didn't know the true nature of his and Shintarō's relationship. 

It didn't help matters that Shin-chan had disappeared with his father, leaving Takao to attempt to make small talk with a room full of grieving strangers. Talk about a cold opening and a tough crowd. 

Takao hated the way Shin-chan was around his father. All stiff and formal, even more so than usual. When Shinzo was around, Shintarō gave his boyfriend the widest of breadth. Takao didn't think that boded well for their future.

The worst part was how his boyfriend turned into a lost puppy, following his father closely behind as they worked the room together greeting other mourners. Even though he was four months older than Takao, Shin-chan seemed so much younger at this moment.

Takao knew Midorima Shintarō _very_ well. He was _intimately_ acquainted with him and knew him in other ways too. He also knew Midorima's parents well enough to have figured out that Shin-chan not only had mommy-issues, he also had _daddy-issues_. Takao would be remiss in failing to mention that Midorima Shintarō had more issues than _Basketball Monthly_.  

Takao had yet to take Psychology 101, but even he could see that his boyfriend's perfectionist tendencies were just that. Midorima's way to get his father to notice him. They were desperate, fool's errand attempts at earning his father's approval. For as long as Takao had known him, Midorima Shintarō was _obsessed_ with doing everything humanly possible to ensure a successful outcome. The stakes were higher, the material more challenging, his classmates vastly more intellectual, but uni was otherwise no different than at Shūtoku where Midorima was valedictorian.

Takao hoped the outcome would be different this time. Shin-chan had been crushed, though he refused to admit it, when his father left immediately following his son's valedictorian speech.  Shinzo was gone before they started handing out diplomas. 

All their classmates had been watery-eyed and overemotional that day. They were leaving high school behind, most were going to uni, a few would become ronins, but Midorima's tears were different. Takao knew the difference between melancholy and bitter disappointment, especially when it was etched on his partner's face.

Months had passed and Takao still wanted to punch Midorima's father in the face. The man was so undeserving of his son's devotion and he didn't even know it.  

In times like these, in the rare moments when the patriarch of the Midorima family bestowed them with his presence, it wasn't very hard to picture the little boy Shin-chan had been before Takao had met him. The little boy who'd been disappointed time and time again when his father didn't come home. And now Takao was getting teary-eyed for reasons that had nothing to do with the coffin in the other room.

Takao felt a tap on his left shoulder. When he turned his head in that direction, he heard a giggle coming from the opposite side.

Takao smiled warmly at the little girl who'd tricked him. "You know." He light-heartedly tugged on the tail-end of one of her braids. "If you really want to up your game, your brother and I know a guy who can teach you some serious misdirection," he said, referring to Kuroko. 

Shuzuko giggled. "I think I did pretty well," she told him. 

"Touché, touché." Takao was happy to see a sunny, familiar face among the mob of grief stricken mourners. "How are you holding up, kiddo?" 

Shuzuko scrunched her nose. "Obaasan liked to pinch my cheeks," she said with a look of mild annoyance.

"Well, she can't do that anymore. Can she?" Takao joked irreverently. The little girl cast a long, petrified glance in the direction of the coffin in the next room. It suddenly occurred to Takao that Shuzuko hadn't come near the coffin all night. She'd been hiding in here where the food was. 

"Death can be confusing, huh?" he took on a softer tone. 

Shuzuko didn't answer his question. She just stared at him with wide eyes identical to her brother's. It was the look Shin-chan would give him when he was pleading with Takao to please just drop it.

 _Okay_ , so she didn't want to talk about it, Kazunari could take a hint. He was good at changing the subject.

"Haven't seen much of you lately?" he remarked. Occasionally, Sazuna would drop by their apartment with Shuzuko in tow and while Shin-chan was loath to see his mother, he was always happy to see his little sister.

"I've been busy," she replied.

" _Oh_? Busy planning our wedding?" Takao teased.

Shuzuko blushed brightly.

Takao chuckled. In some ways, she was _so_ much like her brother it was uncanny.

When Shuzuko was six she had pledged her undying love to Kazunari and told him she was going to marry Kazu-nii. Takao had found the seriousness of her tone simultaneously adorable and hilarious. He had declared right then and there that she was clearly the smartest member of her family, nudging Shintarō in the rib with his elbow. _You see Shin-chan, she knows a good catch when she sees one._ _Out of the mouth of babes_ , Takao had said. Midorima, of course, had found the whole thing less humorous and more horrifying and promptly announced Shuzuko was not allowed to marry until she at least developed better taste in men.

"I can't marry you anymore," she said staring nervously at the tatami mat and fidgeting with her fingers.

"You wound me, Shuzu-chan" Takao said putting a hand to his heart in a silly, over-dramatic gesture. "Finally come to your senses, huh?"

"I don't want to make Onii-chan sad."

Takao's eyes nearly jumped out of his skull. He hadn't expected that response, it made his heart race in earnest. "Why would Shin-chan be sad?' He queried, willing himself to remain calm and doing a terrible job at it.

"Because you're already his," she said in a tone that indicated a less polite child would've rolled her eyes at him.

In some ways she was nothing like her brother. She was much more astute. 

And with that she walked off, leaving Kazunari uncharacteristically speechless.

Takao had always known Shuzuko was the smartest person in Shin-chan’s family, but _shit_ , even he hadn't expected that.

Takao supposed now was as good a time as any to get back to the main room. He was too old to hide in here all night. 

Shintarō finally came back to Takao after Shintarō had exchanged words with literally everyone else in the room. The somber expression on Shintarō's face told Takao that Shintarō had somehow failed to meet Shinzo's expectations again. 

Takao dug his hands deep into the pockets of his pants. He was surrounded by grieving members of Midorima's family who were freely and openly comforting each other and all Takao could do was stand an arm span away from his "roommate" because anything else would raise suspicion. He wanted more than anything to hug Shin-chan, but that would have to wait until they were alone again, in the private sanctuary of their apartment.

Takao bit his lip. He supposed if he got teary eyed about it now no one would question it.

###

Their walk home from the station was a quiet one, mostly because Takao was uncharacteristically silent. By now, Midorima was used to his boyfriend's constant stream of chatter, he rarely asked him to put a sock in it, as he'd so eloquently put it.

Midorima's mother had suggested they spend the night in Shintarō's old room, offering to prepare one of the guest futons for Takao and apologizing to him that all of the guest rooms were being used -- so they could attend the funeral ceremony early the next morning and drive together to the crematorium afterward.

Takao was relieved when Shin-chan turned his mother down. Takao needed to get away from these people. He really, really wanted to go back to his own apartment and sleep in his own bed with his boyfriend even if that meant they'd had to get up extra early tomorrow morning and go through this whole rigamarole again in his ill-fitting borrowed suit. 

"Are you alright Shin-chan?"

Shintarō shrugged in response. "We saw her only on holidays. She was kind to me, but I didn't know her that well." 

"Hmm." Takao puffed his cheeks out as he combed through his thoughts. It seemed just about the only person in Shin-chan's immediate family who was broken up about this was Midorima's father. Takao chuckled humorlessly. _Hey! It turned out the man did have a heart after all, who knew._

Takao lived by the somewhat hedonistic motto that  _people who enjoyed life were winners_. The easiest way to adhere to that motto was to ignore life's problems. He was an expert at avoidance. It worked great for the most part. He would focus on the present, on the fact that he had moved in with his boyfriend. That they could stay up late, watch movies (in theory, because Shin-chan was a bookworm who studied constantly), and fall asleep on the couch. They could keep each other up at night and wake each other in the morning in the best possible way. They could bicker about normal problems, like who left the milk on the kitchen counter and let it spoil or whose turn it was to do the dishes.

It worked well. In the few short months they had been cohabiting, Takao was happy. _Really happy_. Until he was confronted with moments like this. Moments of self-reflection. Moments where he could no longer ignore the pressure he felt in his chest. Moments when he realized he and Shintarō were on borrowed time. Moments when he realized they were only playing house and it would all come crashing down on them eventually. 

Takao did not usually think about death. He was too busy living his life to worry about things like death, but their eventual parting. The official end of their relationship. The inevitability that he could never be more than what he was to Midorima Shintarō right now. That seemed more pressing.

Shin-chan was the oldest child and the only son. Takao knew what that meant. And while he knew also in his heart of hearts that Shin-chan loved him back every bit as fiercely as he loved that oversized tsundere, Shin-chan's parents expected their son to one day no longer need a roommate, to one day marry. And Takao knew that that future person, the one who got to wake up every morning next to Midorima Shintarō, got to share meals with him and inside jokes and start a family could never be him.

Takao stopped walking, causing his boyfriend to do the same. "Hey Shin-chan?"

"What is it?" 

"It's just," Takao sniffed. _Shit_. He should've waited until they were home to have this conversation. "It's just that I don't want this to end. I know it's inevitable and there's nothing we can do to stop it. It's just so unfair. You know?" The tears were really starting to come down. Takao was referring to their relationship, but Midorima thought he was speaking about death.  

"It can't be helped," Midorima replied. He pulled a monogrammed handkerchief from the inside pocket of his jacket and handed it to Takao. 

Takao used it to blow his nose. He knew Shintarō was right, but it was still hard to hear his boyfriend acknowledge reality. They continued to walk in silence. Thankfully their apartment was at the end of the block.  

Midorima closed the front door. "Idiot," he said pulling Takao in, enveloping him in his long arms and giving him a sorely needed hug. "What are you prattling on about? Aren't you the one who goes on and on about living in the moment?"

Takao was crying in earnest now. He had all these pent up feelings of helplessness and they were spilling out of him.

Midorima cupped Takao's face, wiping the remnants of Takao's tears with the pads of his thumbs. But then he stopped. He gazed at Takao, his eyes lingering just above Takao's lips. 

"What is it, Shin-chan?" A self-conscious Takao ran a hand under his nose, concerned he still had some snot.  

"It's nothing." Midorima's lips curved into the tiniest of smiles, his cheeks suddenly blooming with color. "I was just thinking you looked very handsome today." 

Takao laughed through his sniffles. The whole time he'd been worried about this ridiculous suit. He felt like he could melt. It wasn't like Shin-chan to dish out compliments. "Midorima!" he mocked-chastised. "You're going to be the death of me, you know that?" 

"Don't joke about death, idiot." 

Takao was already feeling better. 

"Is this about Obaasan?" Midorima asked slowly running his fingers through his boyfriend's gelled hair. "I didn't think you liked her all that much?" Takao had met Midorima's great aunt only a few times. She was old and curmudgeon like the rest of Shin-chan's family. 

Takao shook his head. "No. It's not that," he said. "I was thinking about you and me. I don't want us to be apart." 

Shintarō offered his boyfriend a tiny, compassionate smile.

"Idiot," he said teasingly. "If I die first, I'll come back to haunt you," he promised in a tone he believed was reassuring. 

What Midorima had meant was that he loved his boyfriend, that as far as he was concerned Takao Kazunari was his most important person, and if he had any say in it, that he wouldn't let anything or anyone separate them. But Midorima was not good with words. 

That was okay, because Takao Kazunari was a love-struck fool and this strange, morbid little pick-me-up was enough to cheer him up somewhat.  

"You mean it, Shin-chan?" 

"Of course!"

Takao's glum mood was starting to lift. It helped that Shin-chan was in one of his rare tactful moods. "Well, if I die first --" 

Shintarõ placed his index finger against Takao's lips to stop him from finishing that sentence. "I don't want you to die first." 

"But you just said, if _you_ died first - -" 

"That's different," Midorima insisted. 

" _How_? How is that different?"

"I would be lost with out you." Shintarō pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.  

"Well, if _I_ died. I'd come back to haunt you because I can't live without you," Takao assured him. 

"What are you talking about?" Midorima pressed his own lips together, trying to bite back a laugh. "You'd already be dead."

"Don't you try your fancy logic on me, Shin-chan. I'm just saying, that's what I'd do."  

It was late and they had an early morning and a long day tomorrow, but neither one of them felt like they were ready for sleep yet. Takao sat in front of the television and tried to find a show that would distract them just for a bit before they went to bed. He tugged on the afghan that was usually draped over the couch and arranged it over his shoulders like a shawl. Midorima went into the kitchen to make them tea, something soothing but without any caffeine to keep them up.  

Midorima came into the living room with two steaming mugs. Takao, who was sitting with his legs across the couch, picked them up so Midorima could sit beside him. Takao may have been domesticated now, but he still liked to put his feet on the furniture. They both got comfortable. 

"Do you think Obaasan will haunt us, Shin-chan?" Takao was seeking to engage his boyfriend in some light-hearted conversation. 

"Most assuredly," Midorima responded in a tone that exuded mock-seriousness. 

"How can you be so sure?" Takao asked. 

"Because we took _liberties_ with her couch on many, many occasions." Midorima replied. 

Takao laughed aloud. The red velvet couch they were sitting on was meant to be on loan to them while Shintarō was in medical school. There was no way they would've been able to return it to Obaasan now, even if she hadn't bit the dust. They'd already had to flip the seat cushions to hide the stains. 

Takao kicked his boyfriend playfully, "You said not to joke about death."  

* * *

**AN1** : I'm so happy I finally got this chapter done. I've been working on it since November of last year! I struggled with it for so long because it was really important to me to flesh out Shinzo's background and provide an explanation (not a justification!) for why he's such a heel. I did some research on Japanese funerals for this chapter (there's a bone picking ceremony!), but I'm sure I still got a lot of things wrong so please overlook them. 

 **AN2** : If you're still reading this story, thank you so much. Please let me know if you like it. It's my single biggest motivator to get to the finish line. 


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